


Mine's a Tale That Can't Be Told

by iamnotanut



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Edo Period, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Relationship(s), Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-07-03 18:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 48,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotanut/pseuds/iamnotanut
Summary: In an age ruled by legends and superstitions, there is much that goes bump in the night. When adventure calls, Iruka is forced on a journey that will carry him far from the life he’s known, unable to turn back. On the road he meets Kakashi, a wayward stray with no past or connection. Despite the storm closing swiftly around them, the two discover a sense of home in their fledgling love. Together they'll push through trials beyond Iruka’s imagination and into a world that borders on the fantastic. When it’s all over, he’ll have a story that no one will believe.





	1. Gimme Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> It begins! Find me on [tumblr](https://iamnotanut.tumblr.com/). I'll try to keep my ranting and rambling there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep in the mountain  
> Some things go bump in the night,  
> Be them friend or foe.

Iruka ducked around the foliage. The tips of his fingers were numb with the biting fall breeze. His childish legs fought to keep with the procession’s pace as he skittered along the deer’s path up the mountain, unable to tear away from what outsider’s eyes were forbidden to witness.

The diligent keepers of the shrine were clad in red and white. Their shadows made by the light of torches extended through the trees and poured down the endless stairs where they walked. At times the child swore he saw the shadows move independently of their owners like curious spirits. The attendants let their chant echo through the tunnel of torii gates. It amplified their call and, rather than a few dozen, it sounded like hundreds of voices had joined them, sending a cleansing chill through the air. The pillared shadows of the torii that played across the trees along with theirs, only strengthening the illusion.

Behind him he heard nature’s quiet steps. The hair rose on the back of young Iruka’s neck. He knew the mortals were not alone. All manner of beasts and spirits had gathered for this night. Too fearful to peer into the darkness, Iruka pushed forward to the shrine.

The shrine grounds were cold and ancient. The trees made a wide berth, leaving only the looming shrine itself. Its thick pillars dwarfed the humans that set foot on its sacred domain. Its wood was painted red and glistened as if wet in the torchlight. These priests and priestesses revered the Inari Gods, but the shrine itself had been built in honor of something much older. Iruka’s mother once told him the story of that deity, the Rabbit God that ruled over the balance of good and evil. The god influenced spirits and humans alike, maintaining and disrupting that balance. As centuries passed, the Rabbit God became more and more absent until one day over a hundred years ago it disappeared entirely. The Inari stepped in to protect the people of this land in its place.

The procession moved onto the grounds, forcing Iruka to break from the cover of trees. Every sound he made in the darkness struck him with a fear of being discovered, but the attendants were too engrossed to notice. He ducked behind one of the guardian statues beside the final torii gate. The stone beast kept a snarling watch on the darkness behind him where glowing eyes observed with great anticipation.

The practitioners stopped in one united breath and there was silence for a moment. Then the priests tapped their jingling staffs on the ground, sending out a pulse—a chorus of bells. Iruka’s heart pounded with them.

The moon appeared close enough to crush them and there was not a cloud in sight to veil it. The mountaintop glowed under its gaze and the stars blinked in night’s blanket. Iruka felt as if they stood at the edge of the world.

His stomach turned and he sought something to ground him. He looked far behind them to the sleeping city that smoldered at the foot of the mountain. The city of Enten was the apex of civilization in their country and yet at such a distance it was nothing more than a dimly lit ember before the roaring power of ancient beings.

The chiming stopped and the world grew still. A small, cautious group brought forth a wooden pedestal holding an offering: a single chestnut burr upon a pure white cloth.

It was time for the Inari Gods’ farewell.

“The Inari were born in a much crueler time,” his father had told him only days before. “They’ve been wandering for thousands of years.”

His parents were there, kneeling at the front of the procession, as was their duty and honor.

“They’re not leaving us, Iruka. This is their chance at a new beginning.”

His father’s voice now joined with the other priests, in a low and haunting hum. Despite the melding of their chants, Iruka could still distinguish him.

His mother gestured over the offering with a short staff streaming with tails of paper. Her expression was one he had never seen, the gentleness and patience she usually carried had been replaced with that of intense concentration, dabbled with instinctual fear.

“They want to make this their home so they can live in peace.”

He remembered how his mother had brushed his hair with those hands, how his father had bid him goodnight with that same voice before leaving him behind when their tale came to an end. “Together, they will become a new land god.”

The priests and priestesses chanted anew, their heads bowing as the heavy doors of the shrine creaked open.

Stepping into the moonlight were the Inari. A pair—man and woman. The heavy layers of majestic robes that adorned them floated gently behind as if they were walking through water. The woman’s red mane flickered after her like a wild flame. The man’s hair was short and golden, lifting gently with each step.

Iruka half expected them to have ears and a tail but, though beautiful, they appeared entirely human. His mother had told him once that, though some of their gifts were truly other-worldly, the god's effect on a grand scale acted more as a powerful ward. Against plague, against famine. For fortune, for peace.

Unseen by the reverent crowd, the man’s blue eyes glistened beneath drooping lids as he cast them onto his wife. Their stoic faces drew into a brief smile. Under the folds of fabric, Iruka saw them take hands. This tender moment was witnessed only by the boy and it passed along the bitter sweetness of what lie ahead.

He remembered his mother saying, “Their spirits will live on in their child. And until the new god has grown, it will be our job to protect it.”

The regal pair settled on their knees and the procession came to life once more. They were promptly encircled by the priestesses. Their white kimono and red hakama created a checker pattern on the steps of the shrine.

Iruka could feel the air thicken. His mother’s face darkened in response. Her words were still fresh in his mind.

“You’ll help us, won’t you?”

Out of the darkness, waves of golden light radiated from the couple. The fires of practitioner’s torches flared and crackled. Iruka’s parents chanted with the rest, holding themselves firm against the pulses as the shrine became a beacon on the mountaintop.

The Inari grew as blinding as the sun, illuminating the forest, until their figures dissolved into the light. Those surrounding shielded their eyes. Iruka hid behind the stone guardian, his heart pounding.

In the shade of the statue, Iruka felt something strange pulling him from the spectacle. He examined the sky.

The stars were gone.

Iruka peered closer to see a black cloud drape across the moon, blotting it out. Something deep within the trees suddenly shifted. A torrent of wind rushed through the brush from all around. Inhuman screams cried out from within the wood, then went quiet. The edges of the forest closed in and Iruka turned to his family.

The light of the Inari quivered. There was a small rattling sound and all turned their eyes to the pedestal that held the offering.

The attendants froze, their singing silenced.

The air stilled.

The burr gave one mad shake, clattering sharply—like bones.

Then in a loud crack, the burr spit open.

Like an exposed heart, the seed inside throbbed.

In that instant the light was rapidly drawn in and a wave of darkness engulfed the shrine. Iruka couldn’t see his hand in front of him. The only sound left to him was his panting breath. He pushed forward from the stone guardian and into in the emptiness. No ground, no light to guide him.

“Okaa-san?”

In the abyss, the pained shriek of a baby split the air.

Out of the nothingness, the shrine erupted in a whirlwind of fire. Red claws stretched up and tore into the shrine, digging into the earth and sending the attendants flying back.

Black streams slipped in with the flames, taking hold of a man and hoisting him off the ground. It squeezed until Iruka heard snapping. It moved separately of the flames—feeding on the pain and rage. The practitioners rejoined and chanted into the black. The fire tore through them before they could gather strength, blowing them apart.

The blood red light swelled with the wailing of the infant.

Despite the chaos, Iruka ran for his parents.

“Otou-san! Okaa-san!!” Fire licked his heels and he stumbled onto the half destroyed stairs of the shrine.

His parents and a few others had escaped inside and were chanting over the offering. It had enveloped them in an orb of white. The black was slinking on the floor around them, seeking an opening. The blasts from the fire thrashed at them like a storm against stone. As one of the priestesses came just out of the light’s reach, the black smoke ripped her away from the others. The woman was helplessly thrown into the rampant blaze that consumed the interior of the shrine.

Iruka cowered back in horror as the flare of fire that followed the black stream’s movements knocked him back, searing his skin. He cried out.

The blanched faces of his parents turned to his voice.

“Iruka!!” His father dove from safety and shielded Iruka as another burst hit. The agonizing sound that wheezed from his father sent a shudder through the boy. They crumpled on the floor together and the grown man smothered his child beneath his weight.

The last priest beside Iruka’s mother couldn’t react fast enough when she impulsively snatched the seed from its pedestal and ran for her family. He shot a hand after her, but it was too late. As soon as he was outside of the light, the black swept him away into the flames.

Iruka’s mother fell onto them, encasing them in the seed’s shelter. The black tendrils danced out of reach, too afraid to touch the barrier.

She cradled her husband and son, pulling them close into the protective circle. Her husband’s eyes were glazed in pain. She saw his charred back and tears cut through the ash on her cheeks. She looked back for the two lives she had sacrificed, but there was no sign of them in the flames. She shook her head fervently as words poured out without control, “I had to—I’m sorry. I had to.” She gripped her family with all her might, tightening up her shaking body and suffocating her guilt. She cupped her husband’s face, patting it gently, “Look at me, Ikkaku. Look at me!” His eyes rolled into focus. She stroked his cheek, “I’m here. Stay with me.”

The white shrank as fire beat against it in another wave.

Iruka shook with his sobs, “Otou-san, I-I’m so sorry.”

A support beam broke free from the roof, smashing open the floor with its fall.

His father’s voice came in pieces, “You have to help—the land god, Kohari.”

She shook her head, looking back for the two dead attendants, at the seed in her hand, then at her debilitated husband. She buried her head in his shoulder. “Please, no…”

The wood above groaned loudly.

With the last of his strength, his father wrenched from their grasp and pushed himself out of the light, “GO!”

She tore Iruka away as the roof fell. Iruka shut his eyes to the flying cinders and held on tightly to his mother’s robes.

The entrance to the shrine was shut. His father was gone under the debris.

Staggering with loss, his mother pulled Iruka away. He coughed violently as the smoke around them thickened and his mother pulled the torched sleeve of her kimono over his mouth. She led them to the center of the torrent and pressed against the battering waves of heat with the seed out in front.

The baby lay ahead, choking and trembling in its cry.

“Iruka, wait!!”

The world fell away as Iruka broke from his mother and reached without hesitation to nestle the baby in his small arms. Its hair was like its fathers, soft and golden. Its little body was heavy and warm. It reached out with its small, desperate hands and clung to Iruka.

Its eyes turned to him, as blue as a clear summer sky.

His mother caught up to them and as soon as the white light touched the baby, the black wisps were blown away in a blinding shockwave. The course of wind fanned the burning wood and for a moment the crimson embers that had consumed the shrine were exposed. The dark presence was gone, and the violent life left the flames. For a moment, they stared at the baby in awe. Iruka’s mother fell to her knees. She held the children close, muttering prayers and blessings, and the infant released into exhausted sleep.

Coming to her senses, Iruka’s mother pulled him along, searching desperately for a way out.

The stoked fires burned bright once more, consuming the temple entirely. Smoke filled Iruka’s lungs, bringing on a fit of coughs.

Iruka saw a dark opening and started to move. “There! Okaa-san!”

His mother yanked him back as another pillar toppled ahead of them and destroyed more of the floor. Suddenly they were trapping on an island of weak planks. Iruka stared into the sea of fire below and the plumes of smoke gathering above. The wood of the shrine croaked and threatened to collapse.

Panic threatened to undo him, but his mother’s touch brought him back. She held his face, turning him to see her.

“Iruka.” Her tear filled eyes were resolute. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

He felt the building lean into its final collapse. It would swallow them all.

His mother unclenched her fist. The seed, free of its shell, throbbed in her palm. She kissed Iruka’s head and held her lips there.

“Iruka, I love you.” Her words a prayer, “Please live.”

She grabbed the back of his neck and shoved the seed into his mouth and down his throat.

The building folded.

* * *

 

The temple he opened his eyes to was cold. Quiet. The room was dark and empty. Morning had not yet come. The paneled walls were open, creating a black frame around the mountain landscape outside. From here he could see the trees blue with the dim morning light were budding with new leaves. Down the folding slopes of the valley rolled a lethargic fog, waiting to be blown away by the rising sun. Calm and slow.

He realized he was panting.

Iruka pulled his kimono tightly closed around him and reclaimed his breath. His chest felt tight—fresh with the dream. He stared at the scenery and reminded himself it was a different mountain. A different temple.

After so many years free from that city and that endless burning night, something unknown to him had given those memories a new power. They weren’t just dreams or flashbacks like those that had followed him as a child. They were very real. A reliving. They flooded his sleep and left him reeling and restless in the waking world.

Iruka’s life had gained a kind of certainty. Over thirty years, he had polished a peacefully patterned day to day. Only in the last few months had things begun to shift in a way he could not explain—all starting with the nightmares.

Out of the wooden walls and toward the forest, Iruka stared at the other new addition to his morning routine.

Hiding in the grass at the edge of the wood was a small cluster of crows. They were watching him, or so he thought.

He was rightfully unnerved the first time he noticed them. He tried shutting the door while he slept, but woke to the sounds of pecking. He was almost positive it was a combination of coincidence and paranoia, but in the end he decided to leave the door to the outside open and give his strange watchmen a clear view.

He rolled up from the futon and stood on the tatami. He folded his bedding and dressed for the day. When he looked for the birds again, they were gone—as if they had been reassured that there were no changes from the day before.

Someone would soon summon him for breakfast. His day would go on, just as it always did, and the dream would fizzle out into what it truly was. An old scar. Nothing for a grown man or a bunch of birds to fear.

The monks had been up for a few hours by now. The murmur of their prayers had already come and gone. He could almost hear the gentle thumping of the apprentices’ feet as they cleaned the temple and alter room. When he was young, he was right alongside them wiping the floors and preparing meals for the monks.

Sure enough, when he entered the hall, he nearly collided with a bustling young man in his formal black attire.

“Good morning, Shishou.” He gave a small apologetic bow, “I was just coming to get you.”

“Please call me Iruka, Zenza-san. I’m not your teacher anymore.” Iruka held in a yawn, “And good morning.”

He blinked, taking in Iruka’s worn expression. “You look exhausted. Are you still not sleeping?” Despite his old student’s bluntness, Iruka knew Zenza meant well.

Iruka waved him off, “I’ve been like this for weeks. I’m just getting old, is all.”

“Chiriku-sama is worried about you.”

Iruka lifted a curious brow. “I sincerely doubt it.” He led Zenza down the hall. “If anything, I’d say he’s been avoiding me.”

They stepped outdoors and greeted a few trainees heading in for breakfast.

Outside the main worship hall there were two towering iron lanterns, engraved with intricate design and green with age. A red railing lined the stone landing, barring the encroaching trees. The forest glowed with a soft green now as the morning drew closer. The trees had only just finished blooming and the last of their fallen blossoms littered the temple grounds.

The quiet that greeted them would not last long. Soon the disciples would be scurrying about, doing their chores and attending to the many small shrines and winding paths that sprawled across their mountain. Soon the place would be spotless.

There was a time when a jolt of panic would run through Iruka at the untidy sight, but these days the groggy, messy temple was very endearing. Especially since it was no longer his job to keep it clean.

They walked across the courtyard and into a building that held a few offices, the kitchen, and the dining hall.

There were four monks and a handful of trainees living on the temple grounds currently aside from Iruka. Zenza had only recently become fully ordained. Until a few months ago he had been stopping in as a student at the terakoya—the school on the slope just off the temple grounds that Iruka ran for the village children. Since his promotion, Zenza had been too busy adjusting to his new duties to stop in and it wasn’t likely he would return. Iruka couldn’t say he missed having the young and chittery monk in his classroom.

Iruka had known the other three monks since he first came to the temple as a child. When Iruka and Zenza entered the modest dining hall, they were seated in their usual spots with their food laid out.

Chiriku, the current head of the temple, sat in the middle of the group. He was a man of few words outside of repeating his sutras or holding necessary conversation while making visits to the temple’s supporters. He was known by the cemented crease in his brow that cast a threatening shadow over his eyes. While he was generally very stoic, the monk held a temper that the students ardently avoided provoking. At Chiriku’s left was the previous head, Bansai—a white bearded elderly man who counted his prayer beads near constantly as he internally wished for the wellbeing of anyone who crossed his path. On Chiriku’s other side was Sentoki. He had a large scar along the side of his head and donned a serious expression to match it. He was Iruka’s closest peer in age and a long-time friend. Seeing the three of them sitting like saintly statues, very few would believe that Chiriku and Sentoki ran amok with Iruka in their youth, stirring up trouble for the old monk Bansai to yell after.

The students sat in two rows down the length of the room eating quietly. Some of them were still dragging along from just waking. Most of those present came from other temples for temporary study on Mt. Kurama. The number of children in town had dwindled in recent years. Most families were moving to the larger cities, leaving behind a predominantly elderly community.

Regardless of the numbers, those three men at the head were Iruka’s constant. For almost thirty years, Iruka lived under their care. He rose with them, dined with them, and called them his family. For thirty years.

When Iruka came into the room on this particular morning, the three were leaning in toward one another. Bansai clutched his beads close to his furrowed forehead in deep thought. The two younger men were muttering keenly in clear debate. The instant Iruka turned the corner the monk’s talk came to an abrupt halt. Chiriku, who was usually so composed, was shaking with an alarmed, knowing expression. Sentoki, who had his hand on the man’s shoulder, sat apart and looked down at his food without a word of greeting for Iruka or Zenza. Only Bansai continued as usual.

His old eyes crinkled and he gave a heartening smile. He continued to cycle the beads through his fingers as he normally would and took up his teacup with the other. “Good morning, Iruka-san. Zenza-kun. I hope you both slept well. It’s a little cold this morning, isn’t it?”

Zenza, the sweet man, seemed to notice nothing odd. “We better enjoy it while we can. I’m sure this summer will be a warm one.” He sat down without hesitation and began eating.

Iruka had undoubtedly seen these three men in a similar state before. When something particularly troubling had happened. When someone had been harmed in the fire festival, or when a child went missing in the mountains. But there was something in the way Chiriku avoided Iruka’s eye he could not ignore. Aware of this himself, Chiriku was up and out the door before Iruka could take another step. Sentoki followed, his food left untouched. They brushed past without a word.

It took everything in Iruka not to storm after them and demand an explanation.

“Iruka-san.”

Hearing his name, he was pulled from his thoughts. Iruka met Bansai’s peaceful gaze. He gestured for Iruka, who had frozen in the doorway, to join them.

He ate in a daze, tasting nothing. Holding himself in his seat. Zenza carried on cheerfully about the changing weather, the departing blossoms, and other light topics without being dimmed by Iruka’s numbed responses.

Eventually, the old man addressed him, “Class should be starting soon, yes?” Bansai took his last sip of tea, sat down his cup, then continued as if Iruka had answered him. “When you’re done with the morning session, meet me in town if you could. I have a few things I need to pick up and I could use some help.”

Zenza responded enthusiastically, “I can assist you, Obou-sama. I don’t mind.”

Bansai gathered Chiriku and Sentoki’s abandoned dishes as well as his own on a tray. One of the students saw this and leapt up to take the task from him. Whether the students were as acutely aware of what had transpired this morning, it was clear they would be too timid to reveal any reason behind it. Iruka would have to resist the urge to interrogate them on his own time. 

As the young man took the tray, Basai addressed Iruka, “How long has it been since you came down from the mountain?” The steadiness of his eye made Iruka’s stomach turn.

Iruka smiled weakly, “Too long, I’d say.”

The old man moved at a ginger pace to the door, “Wait for me at the dango shop. It’ll be my treat.”

Zenza called after Bansai as he departed. “Why does no one buy for me while we’re out?!”

Iruka stood, more eager than ever for the day to pass, and teased the oblivious young man, “When you show me you can use an abacus properly, I’ll be happy to treat you.”

Zenza groaned and trailed him, “Shishou, that’s not fair!”

Iruka stepped outside and to the stone stairs that were marked by small red lanterns on posts.

Just when he reached them, an alarmed catch in his chest made Iruka stop.

He spotted movement in the woods and a crow took flight from its perch. For an instant, he was sure it had a red face.

Iruka steadied his heart with an exhausted sigh.

Would they be watching him in the daytime now? He didn’t have the patience to deal with both the monks and the crows.

“Did you see that?” Zenza tugged at Iruka’s sleeve. “Was that a tengu?”

Zenza’s wide eyes trailed it as if it would sprout legs and arms at any moment. When it was out of sight, Zenza turned that intensity on Iruka.

Again he asked, “Was it?”

Iruka shrugged and started walking again, “Who knows. It’s their mountain after all.”

The edge of the temple grounds dropped off into stone stairs with red railing that would guide them to the lower landing where his school stood.

Zenza wasn’t satisfied with Iruka’s dismissal and yammered behind him as they wound back and forth in their descent. “Bansai-sama says they come out when an evil spirit sets foot in the valley.”

“Bansai-sama would know, being a tengu himself.” He almost burst out laughing when Zenza tripped in shock. “You’re not from around here, so I guess you wouldn’t know that.”

Zenza shook his head hard enough to wiggle his ears.

It wasn’t very often that Iruka got to spread his favorite childhood rumor.

“Bansai-sama is the younger brother of Soujoubou-sama.”

Zenza sputtered, “Soujoubou-sama!?”

Iruka held back a smile. “He’s the master of the tengu that lives deep in the forest at the mountain peak,” Iruka absently pointed up and behind him. “Bansai-sama forgot how to change back into a crow, so he decided to stay with us at the temple.”

Iruka drowned out the slew of questions that followed from Zenza as they came to level ground. The cobble stone landing was a small pool compared to the temple above, but it was large enough to host one tired old building that butted up to the cliff’s edge.

Iruka’s terakoya school was once a small storage house. The wood was stained with time. The original color had drained to leave the building looking very gray. The slated roof had missing tiles here and there that caused leaks on rainy days. The small closet within had a stack of old dishes and buckets for such occasions.

Long before he considered the temple his home, this building had been a safe haven for Iruka. He knew its ins and outs like the back of his hand. When he reflected on his own reckless years within, he couldn’t help but smile.

Chiriku and Sentoki were set on the monk’s path early on, and were very serious students. They were the closest to his age, but Iruka barely spoke to them when he first came to live at the temple. It was the arrival of a boy from Enten changed all that.

The boy, a few years their elder, came from the booming city to study and have a taste of the modest Kurama-dera life. Nobles’ children were known to do so at their parent’s insistence. Iruka didn’t know it at the time, but the boy was the honorable son of the Daimyo. As a result, the residents of the mountain pampered him.

To Iruka, he was just another kid who also felt isolated by his circumstances.

To Iruka, he was just Asuma.

The plopping of sandals on stone brought Iruka back. At the edge of the landing, another set of stairs led down the mountain. On its steps Iruka spotted some bobbing heads rushing up to meet them.

The students greeted Iruka in passing, determined to beat him inside the school. “Morning, Shishou!” “Good morning!”

He waved in response. “Good morning. I’ll be right in.”

Iruka thought Zenza had left already, but the monk was still there beside him going on about the tengu. “I wonder if they know. Should I ask Bansai-sama about it?”

Iruka sighed patiently, “About what?”

“About the evil spirit!”

Iruka walked up the steps and, like a duckling, Zenza padded along after him.

“You know, I’ve seen Bansai-sama’s face get really red before. Do you think he still tries to transform every once in a while?”

Iruka pushed open the door to his school and slowly turned.

Upon seeing Iruka’s amused face it finally dawned on Zenza. “Bansai-sama… Is he really…?”

Iruka gave a cheeky grin.

Zenza opened and closed his mouth, saying nothing. Then he pointed a critical finger at Iruka. “That was not very Buddhist of you, Shishou.”

“Well then,” Iruka took a step through the door, “It’s a good thing I’m not a monk.” He presented the interior to Zenza, inviting him inside. “Are you coming to class today, Obou-san?”

“No—I’m—… Excuse me,” Zenza sputtered and clopped away while bowing. “Have a good day, Shishou! I’ll see you at dinner.”

Finally free of the young monk, Iruka attended to his students. The girls and boys ranged in ages and levels of proficiency so organizing their classes wasn’t the easiest task, but it wasn’t like Iruka had anything better to do than perfect lesson plans in his spare time. No one was too young or too old to learn. He had a few adults come in for evening classes to improve their literacy. They studied calculations, writing, reading, music, history—anything that sparked the student’s interest or helped them in their vocations.

His path to becoming a teacher had been unexpected, to say the least. He had been a horrible student. Late to class. Loud. Disrespectful. It wasn’t until Asuma came to Mt. Kurama to wrangle him that Iruka managed to make any friends at all.

Despite being in a landlocked town, Asuma made the world feel wide open. He told Iruka stories of Enten, about all the drama and gossip. The noble lady that fell in love with a poor merchant. The rebellious child that inherited their family’s fortune. The gods that masqueraded as humans.

They became fast friends. Most of the students weren’t as keen, but Sentoki was pulled in instantly. It took some persuading, but eventually even the studious Chiriku to join in on their pranks and adventures. The four ran around entertaining themselves as only bored kids on a mountain could. They made up epic dramas, and spied on the lives of the town’s inhabitants. They got in and out of trouble together, usually while running from the red-faced old tengu, Bansai.

Crammed in that school, alongside his new found friends, Iruka regained a sense of belonging.

As they grew however, the division in their paths became more imminent. Chiriku and Sentoki left the terakoya to study exclusively at the temple. The nature of Iruka’s friendship with the future monks was forced to change. Chiriku took over Bansai’s position and reinforced his more naturally disciplined attitude. There wasn’t room for Iruka and Asuma there. As the Daimyo called upon his son to visit him in Enten with more frequency, Iruka only saw Asuma for a few months at a time.

The life of a monk had never sounded satisfying to Iruka. Nor did the farm life that awaited him in the town below. No set occupation of his own, Iruka was left mostly alone.

Around that time, their first instructor—a woman from a samurai family—retired. One of the visiting monks took over, but it was hardly the same. As one of the older students, Iruka felt responsible to keep the school alive in his friend’s absence. He became more of a teaching assistant than a pupil to the point that Bansai suggested he take over the school entirely. No longer a child, but barely a man, Iruka hardly felt qualified.

In the end it was Asuma who encouraged him.

Iruka was grateful, honestly, to have something to tether him to Mt. Kurama. It gave him purpose in the absence of his friends and before long became more than just a way to pass the time—in more ways than he could have imagined.

On a fateful day a few years into his teaching, a bizarre student appeared in Iruka’s classroom.

Sitting in the front row was a young boy with bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Until that moment, Iruka had nearly forgotten the child that came with him to the mountain. The child of the Inari.

There had been a great fear that the land god would lose control again and threaten the heavily populated city of Enten if he stayed there. The monks at Kurama-dera deemed powerful enough to contain him. The Inari Shrine believed Bansai and his temple would be able to keep the land god’s power in check until he gained control of his human form.

So, within a small shrine just up the mountain from the main temple, the child of the Inari was contained and raised out of the public eye. Revered as a god and feared as a monster.

When Iruka was brought to Mt. Kurama, not many questioned it. From time to time a child would wander in from the forest, their family dead or lost. It wasn’t unheard of. It was easier for the villagers to believe a story like that than the truth.

In time, Iruka had almost come to believe it too.

When the small boy appeared in his class, Iruka remembered the harsher truth. In the brazen and wild boy that tore his classroom apart and invoked his frustrated rage, Iruka saw himself.

A lonely child who had been robbed of a family’s love.

Iruka wondered if Asuma had done it on purpose—bring Iruka and the Inari’s child together in this way.

If so, Iruka couldn’t help but feel a tinge of bitterness.

His afternoon class ended without incident, though he couldn’t say it was a very productive one. Some of the children ran out the door to the stone stairs while others waited for Iruka to finish tidying the classroom. The walk down the mountain would take close to an hour at the children’s pace, but Iruka didn’t mind. It gave him more time to prepare for whatever Bansai wanted to discuss with him.

The sun had risen, but the steep decline of the mountain kept them mostly in shade. The distinct red railing and lanterns started to disappear as they moved further from the temple. The path carved through the trees until they came upon a large chu-mon gate around the next turn. The tall wooden doors of the gate were always open and the sweeping roof often served as reliable shelter from the rain. The children scampered through and down the last of the stone steps before their path became a dirt road.

With the railing gone, the only thing barring the children from falling down the cliff was the dense line of trees. From the heightened path Iruka could see what waited below. There was a small bridge over a crevice in the cliffs and a small collection of tombstones.

One of the children gasped, stopping their advance.

In a harsh whisper one girl said, “There!”

The group cautiously looked down from the edge of the road.

Something small and bright, no bigger than Iruka’s hand, floated from a tombstones to hide under a leafy bush close to the cliff.

As soon as it was gone, the children skittered around like birds, “Did you see it?” “I saw, I saw!” “What was it?”

Iruka put his heavy hand on one of their heads, reminding them of his presence and muting their excitement.

“It’s a sprite. A little spirit.”

He encouraged them to softly follow.

They came to the level ground and onto cobble stones again. This paving was not as well cared for as the temple grounds. Moss grew in the creases. A sound of water came from below the bridge. They crossed it toward the tombstones, but there was no sprite in sight.

A few of them began to groan in disappointment, but Iruka shushed them.

They rounded the corner and descended another narrow set of stairs to see the stone spigot coming out of the crevice beneath the bridge. From it poured a thin waterfall.

Winding around the splashing water on a stone below was the sprite, misty green like warm sunlight passing through a leaf. It was the kind of spirit that only emerged on land undisturbed by the clamor of civilization.

Iruka watched the children. A few of his students were locked on it and followed its every move. The rest searched helplessly, reacting to every rustle and splatter of water. Not all of them could see it. Even with diligent training, it was a gift to be able to spy on a spirit when it didn’t want to be noticed.

Iruka was once like them, franticly searching for whatever mystical creature the other children had managed to spot. It was only recently that he had started to see the more mysterious and mythical sides of the mountain.

The sprite danced excitedly with the water. Iruka encouraged the students to crouch down. It noticed them and Iruka feared it would disappear. Instead it floated from the water and drifted over a tombstone in their direction.

It seemed curious about their little group and Iruka could tell it became visible to the rest of the children. They quieted immediately, hunkering down around him.

Iruka had never seen one so close before. It rippled like fabric in the wind, thin and light.

He impulsively lifted his hand, stretching it toward the spirit. The soft green thing was intrigued. Its little tendrils reached for Iruka.

Iruka could feel its warmth being pulled in by his fingertips and his heart thudded loudly in his ribcage.

As if it felt it too, the sprite disappeared in a flash of light.

The warmth lingered in his fingers and the students all stared in wonder.

A little frazzled, it took Iruka a moment to regain his composure. When he did he said, “There’s a lot of them out this time of year. If you stay very quiet you’ll see them. And maybe if you’re very, very quiet, they’ll come and say hello.” The children giggled. In the afterglow of their encounter, they listened intently. “They help the plants and flowers grow. They like to be where it’s a little cool, in the shade or by a stream.”

There was a loud and long creak that made them jump and clutter together. The trees stretched in the breeze, recreating the sound. The jittery bunch released into echoing laughter.

The rest of the walk was rather peaceful. To the children every bird and every shadow was a sprite. They listened for every drop of water and snapping of twigs. It was delightfully quiet. Iruka regretted not telling this generation of students about the sprites sooner.

When they reached the main entrance, they found themselves on a paved road with red railing once more. A large red gate waited for them, accompanied by a modest stone fountain.

Once they were through the gate, the magic was dispelled. The students rushed off to enjoy their time before evening class.

From his view on the hill, he could see the whole town from end to end. Bansai, Zenza, and Sentoki were likely making their rounds, honoring the dead and saying prayers over alters the families kept within their homes. The village was getting older and older. Fewer children, fewer monks. But Iruka had confidence the people would return. Their hot springs were legendary, especially in winter. And the fire festival they held every fall, though Iruka never really enjoyed it, was an unofficial rite of passage for young visitors from all over the country. Anyone who visited knew there was something special about the mountain. There would always be a draw, keeping this one-street town afloat.

Iruka passed the establishments and houses until he came to the dango shop. He was surprised Bansai hadn’t beat him there and took a seat on the bench just outside the store’s navy noren curtains. A few of his students were just leaving with their dango. They bowed their heads sheepishly to him and scampered off. How many times had he snuck out of the temple to get a treat here in his youth? More often than not ending in a harsh lecture.

He had once given the young land god similar scoldings in the past, but Iruka’s fire had considerably dimmed recently. Maybe he was getting soft with age.

He couldn’t help but feel like his time in the town was coming to an end. Perhaps the monks were finally tired of housing him and that’s what they had been deliberating for the last few weeks. Bansai would be the most reasonable person to ask Iruka to leave. No one could say no to Bansai.

Iruka heard a scuffle across the street.

One of the shop owners was angrily sweeping a broom. It took Iruka a moment to realize it was an animal that the bloated man was batting at. A shaggy stray dog. Its paws were caked with mud and its fur was matted. The growl in its throat was desperate and fearful.

He hadn’t seen a mountain dog like that in a long time. Let alone in town begging for scraps. Something must have scared it out of the woods.

The owner wacked it hard on the back, making the dog yelp.

Iruka rose to his feet and shouted, “Hey!”

The plum-faced man turned to him, startled.

The stray took the chance to snag a bit of food. Before the shop owner could hit it again, the dog shot out of reach—its goal achieved. The man hollered after it, waving the broom in the air for a moment before giving up with a grumble.

The dog escaped nimbly in the gap between the buildings where one could see the greenery of the forest peeking through. But just before it stepped out of the shadow toward the trees, it stopped. It turned back while chewing on its spoils and stared at Iruka with its good eye.

A smile snuck up on Iruka and he gave a small wave to the beast.

It lifted its head, curious, and its tail gave a single wag. Then it bolted into the trees.

“Did you make a new friend?” Someone surprised Iruka by coming into his view.

There stood Bansai in his formal monk robes and wearing a round sedge hat to shield him from the sun. Iruka blinked in confusion until the old man noted the shop owner that was glaring pointedly at Iruka.

Iruka rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, and bowed in the man’s direction. He muttered to Bansai, “I don’t think so.”

Bansai ordered them tea and dango, then invited Iruka to sit once more on the bench.

He gave Iruka a knowing look, “This place hasn’t changed since you were young.”

Iruka returned with an apologetic laugh, “Not a bit.”

The server brought out their tea and the old man took his cup while saying, “You were always the first of those boys to make a fool out of yourself. So noisy.” Iruka cringed and Bansai chuckled. He handed Iruka his cup and added gently, “You were such an honest child then. I wonder what’s changed.”

Iruka replied humbly, “I’d like to think I’ve grown up some.”

“Of course you have. You’ve become an excellent teacher. I know Ikkaku-san and Kohari-san would be proud.”

At the mention of their names, Iruka’s stomach sank. He rubbed the rim of his cup with his thumb making the tea ripple.

Bansai’s tone cooled into something more solemn, “We don’t hear your voice much anymore, Iruka-san. I wonder if you truly feel at home here.”

That was a line of thought Iruka had not entertained in a long time. He would be lying of he said recent events hadn’t encouraged him to think of a future outside of the temple. If there was one to be found.

Iruka awkwardly stared at his cup. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It’s been a long time since Asuma-san and the land god left, hasn’t it?”

His thumb stopped. The water stilled.

“I’m sure you wanted to leave with them.”

Iruka’s reply was instant. “I did.” It startled them both. He quickly clarified, “But I’m too old to regret that now.”

It was his own fault for reminiscing about the past for so long that morning. His thoughts were still muddied. He didn’t want Bansai to think he was unhappy with his current circumstances. The land god and Asuma’s departure had been inevitable and he had accepted that. If anything, he was a little resentful toward Asuma for bringing the unruly student into Iruka’s life, only to take him away again.

The server came with their dango and the interaction gave Iruka a chance to recover.

He allowed a different memory to take the forefront and distract himself.

“Asuma and Kurenai-san met at this shop, do you remember? At the fire festival.” Every other woman that discovered Asuma was the Daimyo’s son either trailed after him blindly or avoided him entirely. Kurenai, however, was the daughter of a samurai, and held no stock in men who used their status to get their way. “She came all the way from Enten just for the festival. Asuma and Chiriku were showing off, swinging their torches around, and they caught the curtains on fire.” He laughed at the memory of Chiriku’s rebellious stage. It hadn’t lasted long, but it had been very destructive. “Kurenai came outside with her dango in one hand, and knocked Asuma hard enough to send him flying with the other.” He trailed off, “The rest is history.”

Bansai only nodded, humoring him. His next words were very quiet. “I’m sorry we didn’t let you go with them, Iruka-san. I wish we had.”

Iruka shook his head. “I understood why.”

All they held in common between them existed within Kurama-dera. Outside of that what reason did a humbly raised teacher and the son of the Daimyo have to be friends? He had learned that when his closeness with Chiriku and Sentoki dissolved. The same was true with the Inari’s child. Tragic circumstances tied them together. The fondness that developed while watching the boy grow was not a strong enough justification for Iruka to follow after the land god when it was time for him to return to the Inari Shrine. He had no right.

“No,” the old man said firmly. “Despite what Chiriku-sama and I had thought, you’re no safer here than you would be in Enten.”

Iruka was caught in the all-knowing gaze coming from under Bansai’s bushy white brows and a chill shot up his back.

Bansai saw that and leaned away. As if wishing to dispel the tension, he rambled without any apparent aim.

“I hear there have been strange spirits wandering around the temple.” The old man took the stick of dango and rolled it back and forth in his fingers, making them spin slowly. “The spirits… gods, demons… they draw good and bad fortune alike. Whether they are good or evil by nature—trouble follows them.” His gaze sank with his thoughts as he formed them. “There are people like that too, I think.”  
As the old monk spoke, Iruka’s pulse started to race. He didn’t understand why, but he was nervous. As if he could feel the hammer starting to fall.

Just as Bansai finished, the clamor of children erupted in the street. A group of them ran past and rushed toward the main gate of the temple.

Relieved by their presence, Iruka started to stand.

“I should head back,” Iruka said.  
   
Bansai caught him by the arm. “Sit down, Iruka-san. Don’t worry about the students.”

A rumble of panic returned and he obeyed. He lowered onto the bench.

Bansai’s grip on Iruka’s arm only tightened, forcing Iruka to look him in the eye.

As Bansai’s mouth formed the words, Iruka’s blood went cold. A hollow feeling swept through him and carved him out too thin. He knew he would shatter if he let even his expression shift.

“Asuma-san is dead.”

Rigid, the world span around him with increasing noise. The sounds of life grew from a murmur until they were shouting at him. The talking neighbors, the laughing children, feet on the path, dishes clinking. Bansai’s voice became muffled. Rather than hearing the words, Iruka felt them reverberate and clatter in his shell.  
   
“It happened a few weeks ago. The new just reached us.” Bansai’s touch ghosted away. Sadness tightened the old man’s voice. “He was sick for a long time. We thought he would recover, but…”

Without feeling it, a voice asked, “He was sick…?”

The silence dragged on for an eternity.

He imagined it. Asuma lying in Enten, surrounded by his friends and family. His face would be drawn in a smile—laughing despite himself. Why wasn’t Iruka there? Why wasn’t he there with Asuma?

How long had he been sick? He was dead? How was that even possible?

When there was no response to his flurry of thoughts, Iruka lifted his head. The old man was clenching fists in his lap. At a loss. Guilty.

Iruka’s voice came out low and hoarse, “You knew?”

The shell was cracking.

He asked again, struggling to keep a level tone. “Did you know?”

In a breath, the old man’s demeanor changed. No longer remorseful, but painfully kind. Full of pity.

He stared into Iruka’s eyes in admittance. “We did.”

Iruka shook his head slowly. We. We did.

Each syllable was a labor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We thought he would be alright. We didn’t want to worry you.” As if the monk were speaking to a child.

Rage flooded in to fill the sorrowful emptiness. It swelled. It wanted Iruka to leap up and strike the old man. Curse him. Scream. Iruka dug his fingers into his knees, trying to hold onto that feeling, but the heat drained through the cracks as quickly as it came, sinking him lower than before. Leaving him utterly unsatisfied. Weak. It took everything in him to stay upright.

The tears seeped out, but he didn’t notice. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice came and went like a far off dream. “I would have gone to see him. If I’d known he was sick. I would have…”

Bansai wrapped his arm around the man and pulled him into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, son. I’m sorry.”

The arm around him and the bench below were miles away.

The vacant, one-street town buried in the mountain valley was unmoved.

In a forest where the sun barely held its glint, where everything was destined to be swallowed and erased, a man mourned and wept.

Unheard and unseen.

* * *

 

When time returned to him, Bansai got him to his feet. He helped Iruka up the street, out of the public eye, and to the mountain path.

When they reached the stairs, Iruka brushed off the old man’s arm.

“Go on.” Iruka had regained some semblance of himself. He smiled at his friend. “I’ll be behind you.”

The old man, unable to argue, walked up a few steps and stopped. He looked down at Iruka in his heavy monk garb. The guilt returned to his bearing.

“I’m fine. I just want to be alone.” Iruka rubbed under his dry eye, as if to prove it.

The old man nodded reluctantly and went ahead.

Iruka waited until the man was out of sight to sit on the step. His head sank into his hands.

Every stone, every tree brought him back to Asuma.

The tears threatened to return and he struggled to usher the memories away. It would take time, he told himself. Time, for the memories to fade and become pleasant once more, for the empty feeling to recover. To scar. He knew this. For now, all he could do was wait.

He forced his thoughts to drift. What would he teach in class the next day? A part of him wanted to throw out the lesson and take the children on a walk through the mountain, like he had always wanted to do as a student. He could teach them about the different plants and animals they saw. Or nothing at all. He wanted to see them play and get along. Like siblings, raised side by side on the mountain.

An impulse struck him and he stood.

He peered into the darkening wood. There was still enough light. He could find his way back.

Iruka’s footing was shaky as he stepped off the path and into the trees.

He didn’t want to go far. He only wanted to be alone. His pace quickened. He told himself, by the time you come back to the path, you’ll be just fine. Fine enough to face them. The students. The monks.

Before he knew it, he was running.

When was the last time he ran? Considering how ragged his breathing was already, it had been too long. He almost tripped on a root and laughed out loud at himself. His voice echoed in his solitude.

They had never been allowed to drift too far from the temple, yet Asuma always found a way to get them out. To bend the rules.

That was what he wanted for his students. He wanted them to be wild and loud together. To cause trouble, to explore. While they could. While they had time. He wanted to hear their dreams and stories, their ambitions. How they’d travel to far off places. How they’d surpass the future of their parents and what plan the town had in store for them.

How many times had he dreamed of visiting Asuma and the land god after they left? He had always come up with some reason to stay. Why? How many days it had been since Asuma passed? Maybe he could travel to Enten for the funeral. Pay his respects. Say a proper goodbye.

He couldn’t change the past, but he could at least do that.

Iruka’s vision blurred and he stumbled. He fell to the forest floor and didn’t rise again.

He could at least say goodbye.

He buckled into the ground. He gripped the grass and his tears fell free, the trees his only witness.

He allowed himself to be shaken apart.

In time, he told himself, it will pass.

In time.

The branches around him rustled with the wind and he became aware of himself again. He held his chest, focusing on his breathing and urging his heart to settle down.

Iruka wondered if his students were still waiting for him in the terakoya, or if they had given up on him and gone home. Maybe someone from the temple had told them class was canceled.

He fell back into the trunk of a tree and slumped into the dirt.

It was then he spotted a shadow moving in the woods ahead of him. He jumped in shock, but quickly realized it wasn’t an animal.

It was a person, he was sure. An old woman with long white hair.

Iruka wiped his cheeks and called to her, “Hello?”

Her head jerked his way, but he couldn’t quite see. She reached in Iruka’s direction. He thought it was a hand at first, but it was too long and thin. A walking stick, perhaps. She started moving his way with strange, blind steps.

He was about to call to her again when there was another sound from the tree ahead of him.

He gazed up into the stare of a single crow.

There it perched on a low branch, sitting perfectly still.

There was more rustling in the branches above him, a sound he had at first attributed to the breeze passing though.

His whole body shivered and his head dropped back, eyes wide. The tree above him was filled with crows. Watching him.

He pressed his back into the trunk, gripping the bark. A few of them ruffled their feathers in anticipation. Iruka pulled his feet under him as slowly as he could and dug his heels into the ground in preparation to push off.

He peered at the old woman again, ready to yell a warning to her. She was much closer, but still too obscured for him to make out her face from the curtain of spindly white hair.

The lone crow in the tree ahead of him made a graveled sound, drawing his attention. It flapped its wings as if to take off and the other birds stopped fidgeting.

There was stillness for only an instant before it released a terrifying caw, jutting out its head with the chilling cry.

The birds around Iruka erupted into flight and sound.

Too petrified to yell to the woman, he bolted from the base of the tree. He was batted with the fluttering wings, and scratched at with their talons. Their screeches were all around him at first, but gradually they drew back to flank him. When he started to veer too far in one direction, they corralled him on a narrow path, driving him up the edges of cliffs yet never to a dead end.

He dared to look back when he was on level ground and caught a glimpse of the old woman. She was being attacked, that much was clear. Her white hair flew about her as she swung at the birds with what looked like two long, leafless branches.

A crow dove for his exposed face and Iruka protected himself. Too afraid to glance again, he tucked his head down and ran for what felt like an eternity, desperate to keep his feet under him. The crows eventually grew more distant, just squawking and fluttering at the edge of his periphery.

At first he thought he was imagining it, but there was light ahead. The light grew closer and he knew for certain he had returned to the path.

As soon as he realized that the cawing stopped, but he did not slow. He ran the last stretch accompanied only by his panicked breathing.

Iruka broke out of the trees and onto cobble stone.

There stood his school.

Hit with relief, he fell to the ground clenching his chest and struggling to catch his breath. He rested his forehead on the cold stone until the adrenaline pumping through him faded.

Fearfully he looked back at the edge of the wood. He expected to see the crows’ shining black eyes, but they were gone.

Cautiously he stood and walked back to the edge of the landing. It was nearly dusk and the forest was almost entirely dark. He saw no hint of wings. No old woman. Nothing. Just trees.

He checked his arms and felt his neck, but there were no scratches. No talon marks to be found. No feathers. Just the dirt on his knees. He felt as if he had imagined the whole thing.

Hardly reassured, he turned back to his school.

The windows were unlit. The students were long gone. Without them, it was just a ratty old shack. Unimpressive and small.

He approached it, walking back into reality, and placed his hand on the wood of the door. He sagged against it and shut his eyes. He could almost hear Asuma’s voice. Pressuring Iruka to sneaking out during self-study. Congratulating him when he became a teacher.

To Iruka, that little building was the most precious place in the world.

And he never wanted to set foot inside it again.

As soon as he had the thought, he pulled away.

How was it that the walls could close in so quickly? As if he needed some crazy birds to chase him around and make him feel any more isolated.

He pivoted and stormed to the final steps that would bring him to the temple.

The large white paper lanterns hanging from the main buildings had been lit. That must have been the light that had drawn him from the woods. The grounds had an ephemeral glow about them. The way their light reflected on the red paint reminded him of the Inari Shrine.

He spotted a few apprentices. Their brooms were unmoving, their work abandoned.

From their faces, Iruka wondered if the crows had visited them as well.

He peered around and saw more of the apprentices shifting cautiously around the entrance of the temple. The four monks stood at the center of their attention.

Bansai and Chiriku were toe to toe. The old man was shaking with rage while Chiriku stood as firm as an oak in the storm. Zenza’s head turned back and forth between them, filled with anxiety. Sentoki was to the side of the cluster, lost in his thoughts and bearing a grim expression.

Iruka had never seen Bansai so furious.

“You’re being unreasonable. He had a right to know!”

“You had no right to tell him.” Chiriku was filled with stony resolution, “I have to protect this temple.”

Bansai’s hackles rose. “It has nothing to do with him!”

“How are you sure of that? You can’t be.”

One of the students near the stairs spotted Iruka and whispered frantically to his fellow. The reaction spread like wildfire and suddenly all eyes were on him.

Bansai’s face drained of life. He reached for Iruka, but Chiriku was faster. He strode across the temple grounds, stopping at the large iron bells. The temple glowed behind him, casting him in shadow.

“Umino-san, please come inside.”

Iruka became overly aware of how close he was to the stairs. How much space there was between him and Chiriku. He fought the urge to run.

Iruka glanced past him to Bansai for guidance. The old man had wilted over, eyes on the ground.

Chiriku repeated himself, boxing away any previous hostility and returning to his usual calm, “Umino-san. Come inside.”

Chiriku opened his palm toward the main worship hall, insisting.

Unable to justify his instinctual hesitation, Iruka moved past Chiriku and diligently to the steps.

His decision brought resignation to Sentoki and Bansai. They opened the temple doors. The old man uttered some quiet instructions to Zenza and the young man nodded. He came away from the temple to attend to the curious apprentices.

Iruka went past them into the dark room and the doors closed them all in.

Iruka had rarely set foot in the worship hall, only in his youth to clean it. The wood was a deep ruddy color, polished enough to glisten in the low light. The rows upon rows of plain wood pillars reminded him of the trees he had just sprinted through. Those that extended into the dark seemed endless. Iruka couldn’t tell if he was more afraid of this room and the memories it awoke, or the forest of crows.

The statue of Buddha at the shrine behind Chiriku observed them with vigilance and encouraged Iruka to be at peace. He allowed its stable presence to ease his mind.

“Sit down, Umino-san.”

He did so, but the other men remained standing and hovered tentatively around him.

Sentoki spoke first. “Iruka, do you know anything about—…” He caught himself and tried again, “Had anyone told you about Asuma before today?”

These were the first words his old friend Sentoki had spoken to him the whole day.

Iruka’s brows knit together as a brittleness returned to him. “No. I had no idea.” Then anger replaced it and gave him substance, “I didn’t even know he was sick.”

Chiriku noted their exchange carefully.

“Iruka, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner… I am. I know you were close to Asuma.” His apology might have struck him as genuine if it didn’t sound so guarded.

Emboldened by his rage, Iruka interjected, “We were all close once.”

Sentoki visibly crumbled as silence fell over him and Iruka felt immediate regret.

It was Chiriku that responded. “Yes.” He corrected Sentoki, “We were.”

Sentoki’s condition seemed to worsen. He held his arms tightly around himself, as if he was afraid he would lunge out. He paced restlessly as Chiriku took over.

“I can only imagine what an ordeal it was to lose your family at such a young age… and in such a way.” Chiriku spoke as head of the temple now. Diplomatic and controlled, “I hope you have been treated well, despite the circumstances in which you were sent to us.”

Iruka couldn’t understand Chiriku’s meaning. He was an orphan that the temple took in. Even if reasons why he had been sent were unique, that didn’t make Iruka somehow special or worthy of different treatment.

Chiriku’s overly courteous tone continued, “I wanted to ask you, if you don’t mind, how much you remember from that night?”

This question was more familiar. The first few months at Kurama-dera had been filled with interrogations. It had taken some time, but after a while Iruka was able to recount all he saw to the Enten officials and the monks that took him in. His account had been documented as well as he could remember it.

Iruka shrugged. He had nothing more to add to the official story. “You know everything I do, Obou-sama.”

Chiriku grew still and cold. That was apparently the wrong answer.

“You’ve been having nightmares lately, haven’t you?”

Iruka laughed apprehensively and Chiriku’s eyes narrowed. Another wrong answer.

He tried again, “D-did Zenza-san tell you?—”

Chiriku cut him short, “No. We’ve felt them.”

The façade of courtesy fell away from Chiriku, leaving a hardened expression Iruka had never seen be  
fore. Iruka looked between the men around him and their frightening faces.

“I haven’t been sleeping well. What does it matter?” His stomach dropped as Chiriku’s words caught up to him, “You’ve felt them?”

Bansai asked quietly from behind. “How long have you had them, Iruka-san? When did they start?”

He thought back to the first night his parents and the heat of those flames had returned to him. When he first came to the temple, he would hear his mother’s voice echo in the hallway, or see flashes of his father’s death in a flicker of fire from time to time, but it all passed. The image of that shapeless black and red horror from thirty years ago had dulled in his memory. He had convinced himself it was a delusion. The creative justification a child would invent to deal with trauma.

Nothing had been as immersive as what he saw now when he fell asleep each night. No memory had ever been so painfully perfect.

He finally replied to them, his eyes still clouded with thought, “A few weeks, maybe.”

He drifted back to them to gauge how his answer had faired and was met with their terror. It was as if his face had painted the picture they sought and dreaded.

Iruka scrambled to reassure them. “They’re just dreams, it’s nothing.” When they did not respond, he asked again, “What do you mean you felt them?”

Chiriku was almost unrecognizable. He was consumed by a primal fear. “The night your parents died, something was born. You saw it. A collection of powerful malice and vengeful spirits. An Onryou.” Chiriku need not remind him. Iruka had seen the black hiding within the flames of the Inari. The name Chiriku used meant little to Iruka. That was what the monks and priests claimed had killed all those people, but Iruka knew it was beyond names. It was an ancient evil. “Those of us connected to the spirits felt it the moment it arrived. We thought it had been erased that night by the Inari.”

Iruka nodded, recalling the white light that had saved him.

“That’s what we all thought… until the day Asuma-sama passed.”

Sentoki’s pacing stopped and all eyes locked on Iruka.

The room spun and Iruka held his chest. He felt the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He couldn’t understand. It had died, hadn’t it? It was gone. It had to be.

Chiriku stood tall, devoid of emotion, as he said, “Today we were told the Onryou has resurfaced in Enten. It appeared the day that Asuma-sama died.” His words were slow and deliberate. Unfolding. “The same day your nightmares began.”

Iruka cowered back slightly. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Chiriku extended a hand and pointed to the center of Iruka’s chest, “We fear there is a piece of it embedded inside of you.” The head of the temple sought the older man’s eye. Bansai’s fury was barely contained as they met. Then he returned to Iruka as if he were examining a toxin that needed to be purged. “It was dormant and we believed it to be harmless when you first came here. We are not certain if it truly has a connection to the Onryou but, until we are, you will be confined. ”

He examined their faces. All firmly set. Even though there was reluctance present in Bansai and Sentoki, they believed Chiriku’s words. That was clear.

Iruka shook his head and muttering, “I don’t… I don’t know anything about this.”

He jerked as if to stand, and the three men’s eyes flashed with horror and hostility.

He fell back. These were the eyes that watched the land god. As if he would transform into a monster at any moment.

Iruka stared at his lap and searched himself for a sign. For anything. Anything that might indicate a change in him.

“Am I dangerous?”

Chiriku gave a veiled response, “Until we understand how to remove it, you need to be monitored.” Bansai growled at that, but Chiriku went on. “This is the safest place for you, Umino-san. Here we can protect you.”

What if something really was wrong? What if he hurt someone?

“We need you to cooperate.”

Iruka clutched at his chest. He thought of the Onryou. It had only appeared for one night in his past, yet it had unleashed so much destruction and inflicted so much pain. With its reemergence, Iruka didn’t need to imagine the panic that would spark in those who knew what devastation it could unleash.

If something like that was within him… what right did he have to refuse?

The reality of the threat he presented descended over Iruka and he smiled slightly.

He looked up at the monk, resigned, “If that is what Chiriku-sama wants of me, there is nothing more to say.”

Sentoki and Bansai flinched as if struck. Chiriku nodded decisively and put an end to it. He invited Iruka to stand.

This was the long awaited answer Chiriku wanted from him.

The man helped Iruka to his feet, all his kindness and patience had returned. At Iruka’s surrender, he became full of reassurance as a physician would for an ailing man.

“We’ll help you how we can, Umino-san. You’ll stay in the shrine behind the temple. It’s only temporary, but we need to remove you from the students before more rumors spread. There’s no need to worry them.”

Iruka’s heavy steps echoed through his bones.

The doors opened and Iruka kept his head down, away from the curious eyes of the apprentices that waited outside. Zenza stood among them, trying to calm the students. He searched his fellow monk’s for any information he could gather.

The trio led and Iruka trailed along, docile. They went off the stone steps and across the grounds to behind the living quarters. There was an obscured path leading toward the mountain peak. Zenza kept the students back, shepherding them into the mess hall for dinner.

Iruka dragged his muddied sandals, tripping over the winding roots. Iruka’s legs already felt like soup after running for so long, but now he barely had the will to lift them as they retreated further and further from the warmth of the temple. Soon enough all that illuminated their path was the sole lantern’s light and an eerie blue glow spreading like fog in the underbrush of the forest. It was the last hint of the setting sun across the mountains.

The trees were dense around them. The dirt trail was lined with thick ropes and paper wards tied between the trunks as they grew close. They served as a warning to those wandering close that they were encroaching on sacred ground.

When he searched beyond, Iruka was hardly surprised to see a few crows sitting in the foggy grass. Watching carefully. They seemed at least respectful of the wards. Perhaps he’d be able to sleep without their persistent eye upon him.

When he was in school, there were many of his peers that had an aching curiosity toward the shrine tucked far behind the temple, but Iruka had absolutely no interest. He had learned his lesson.

When they finally reached their destination the first thing that greeted them was a stone lantern reminiscent of the iron ones guarding the temple. The shrine was small and as old as the terakoya. The wood appeared black in the night light. The stone foundation was lined with moss and the timeworn roof was covered in fallen leaves.

The air was oppressively thick.

This was where the Inari’s child had grown up. In this courtyard. Within this circle of trees. This is where the land god had been contained. Before the child had been allowed to truly live.

Bansai and Sentoki came to the stone steps, but no further. Chiriku went to the shrine, past the thick hanging rope and bell that was rung for offerings, into the black shadow of the roof. He undid what sounded like an iron lock. He pushed open the hefty wooden door to an empty interior. The monk gestured for Iruka to enter and he obeyed.

The room was much smaller than it appeared from outside. There were no openings for light. Just a wooden box.

Before the door was shut, Chiriku spoke to Iruka one final time. “We will bring you food and something to sleep on in a little while. Please understand, Umino-san. This is for your sake.”

Iruka smiled, resting his hand on the doorframe, “Of course. Thank you, Chiriku-sama.”

The head monk pulled the doors closed. With the grinding click of metal, the iron lock sealed Iruka into darkness.

The hint of light through the cracks faded as they departed with it. Their footfalls became softer until finally they dissipated, leaving him with only the faint cry of crickets and an occasional brush of wind through the trees.

Iruka sat in the blackness. Completely alone.

Within the tight walls of the shrine, the privacy was surprisingly welcome. To be unobserved at last brought Iruka a kind of peace. It gave him space to grieve for Asuma and entertain thoughts he had never allowed.

Eventually Sentoki came to provide bedding and his dinner. In the days that followed, the monks took turns providing his meals, but never lingered.

At the sight of Bansai and Sentoki and their obvious guilt at his confinement, Iruka wished he could say something, to relieve them. To indicate somehow that he wasn’t—… that he didn’t blame them for not telling him about Asuma sooner.

Yet he could never find the words in time and each opportunity passed in heavy silence.

Why hadn’t he followed Asuma and the land god when they left those years ago? At the time, he blamed his students. He couldn’t leave them behind with no one to replace him as their teacher. He wondered who took care of them now in his absence.

Perhaps this was his chance to move on.

Perhaps he could start again when this was all over.

He held onto that belief through the first night and the second. But soon, the darkness and isolation brought about a new kind of nightmare that drowned out all other thought.

Asleep or awake. It didn’t matter anymore. Iruka’s past stalked him.

There were moments when he couldn’t remember if he was sitting in the darkened shrine or trapped in the starless night cast by the Onryou. The growing heat of summer mimicked the stifling heat of the land god’s flames. He would find himself clutching at his chest, struggling to breathe. The voices of his parents and the dying practitioners screamed in his ears.

Hours and days passed this way.

What evil was hiding within him? He couldn’t understand. There was no weight to it. No force he could sense with his untrained eye.

All he could do was drown in that same, endless night.

He kept his futon permanently folded in the corner. The monks came and went, one by one. Their visits were always too short to ground him. They brought food, but Iruka barely ate. He was too lost to remember hunger.

After unmarked time had passed, Bansai’s voice came from the other side of the door. Iruka opened his eyes to the crease of early morning light. He could almost make out Bansai’s shadow standing at the foot of the steps.

“Chiriku-sama has sent for someone from the Inari Shrine to help cleanse the spirit within you. They think it will get stronger if we leave it alone.” The wood creaked under the old man’s weight. His elderly steps were slow and cautious. Iruka could hear him set down a tray of food.

Another person’s presence filled him with relief.

“Please.” His voice, unused for too long, cracked. “If he can cleanse it, let him. I can’t take this anymore.”

He waited for Bansai, but heard nothing. He watched the shadow shift and the old man placed his fist on the door with a gentle thud.

“I fear you won’t survive.”

For a moment, the words meant nothing. His body shivered—reacting first, before his thoughts could process.

Then they poured over him like cold water

His mouth fell open.

Desperation and betrayal and rage tore a manic path through him—pulling him in every direction from within. Yet he could barely move to breathe.

No wonder Bansai and Sentoki had been so conflicted when he gave himself over.

No wonder they could barely look him in the eye when they closed him back into darkness day in and day out.

His imprisonment was never meant to be temporary and they knew it from the beginning.

Chiriku was going to kill him.

Iruka was shaking. Instinct urged him to flee—to rebel. Break free of the shrine, it told him, and run into the woods. He would fight an army of crows if he had to. He would do anything.

Yet a shadow loomed in his mind. He couldn’t forget his friend’s faces. The monks were terrified.

The impulse to run was fizzling out. For thirty years, the people on Mt. Kurama had raised him, housed him, and fed him. He had willingly given himself to this town. His life and his time. What if he hurt the monks? Or his students? Would he risk that chance and run from the temple anyway?

Asuma was dead.

Even if Iruka wanted to say goodbye. It didn’t matter. He was too late.

He had nowhere else to go.

Iruka laughed weakly, shocking the old man on the other side.

He couldn’t blame the monks for their decision.

“If purifying me of this… evil protects the people here, isn’t that the right thing to do?”

Iruka heard Bansai’s prayer beads clicking as he pressed them through his fingers.

They sat in silence. The door was a canyon that stretched between them.

Bansai’s voice extended a patient hand.

“Do you think the land god is evil, Iruka-san?” The wood creaked as he sat down, casting a shadow over Iruka through the gap in the door. He could almost make out Bansai’s kind crinkled eyes. “Did you ever blame the land god for what happened to your parents? Do you blame him now?”

Iruka stared into the crack. This was the same view the land god once held. How long had they kept a child locked away in here? How long did he have to stay inside? Was he allowed to run and play within the protective wards around the shrine? Did he have anyone to talk to?

He would never forget the curious and noisy student that appeared before him. The boy that mirrored his own past. How had he stayed so bright and resilient? How had he faced the contempt and fear so many held for him without faltering?

“No. Not Naruto.” He was just a boy. A troublemaker destined to fly in the face of every expectation set before him. He escaped their miserable town to pursue a better life. To find a place in the world where he belonged. “He’s awkward and clumsy… and a screw-up… but he always tried his best.” Iruka allowed the memories to warm him. They brought him a glimmer of peace. “I have nothing but respect for him.”

The old man stood and, with a loud click, the lock was undone. He pulled open the door with Iruka’s tray of food in hand.

Bansai stepped into the small shrine with a smile on his face. “You have your answer then.” He sat the food before Iruka. “You better eat something, Iruka-san. The land god wouldn’t be happy to see you like this.”

Iruka knit his brows together as the old man shut him in and locked the door once more.

He stared at the tray, baffled at first. Then, as if possessed, he scarfed down his first real meal since his confinement.

He was sure Naruto and Asuma would be ashamed of him.

Chiriku and the monks wanted to know what Iruka’s connection was to the Onryou, but he was in the dark as much as they were. Iruka couldn’t believe he had anything do to with whatever evil had descended upon Enten. Yet there he was! Trapped in a wooden cage. And he had resigned himself to that? To take on the guilty charge without knowing why?

Was it too late to seek the truth? Was it too late to fight the sentence placed on him?

He cleared every dish that Bansai left for him.

Iruka would have to escape somehow.

He tested the floorboards and with some serious effort managed to pull one loose. He tore off its neighbor to reveal the thick structural bars of wood that made up the floor. He roughly kicked one to the side and made a large enough hole for him to squeeze through.

Then he kicked out the panels of wood below it, finally exposing the crawlspace beneath.

He stared into the narrow hole he had made as the afternoon light flooded in from below. All he needed to do was crawl down, bust through the wooden lattice to the outside, and he would be free.

Iruka was almost embarrassed at how easy it was. Then again, the last person contained there had been a child.

He cleaned up the splintered wood and replaced the boards, but light was still leaking in. He covered it with his unused futon and sat in darkness once more.

He would wait until after dinner.

He tried to visualize where he would go, but Iruka was ashamed to realize he had no idea how to reach the main road to Enten from the mountain. He knew it would take him until morning at least, but what if he went the wrong way and ended up lost?

He knit his fingers in his lap and wracked his brain for any stories or hints in his memory for the right way to go. All the while he tried not to think about how he would be traveling in the black of night.

He devoured most of his lunch, delivered by the silent and guarded Sentoki. The rest he would stow away for the journey.

Sentoki took away the emptied tray from breakfast without any reaction.

Iruka resisted the temptation to say something to his old friend, concerned that any form of goodbye or thanks would be deemed suspicious.

When it was time for dinner to arrive, Iruka’s legs were twitching.

Before he realized someone had come onto the shrine grounds, the lock to his prison was undone and Bansai threw open the door with more force than usual.

He was wearing his sedge hat and holding a long staff, panting lightly. His eyes were determined.

“The rain’s coming, son. It’s time you were on your way.”

He pulled a bundle from his back and unwrapped it in Iruka’s surprised arms. Within were the dressings for a monk. There was a formal black kimono and all its necessities as well as a fresh pair of two-toed socks and unworn shoes.

Bansai relinquished his woven hat and pushed it into Iruka’s chest. “Get dressed. You’re going on a pilgrimage, so you better look the part.”

Iruka blubbered, “T-to where?”

The monk grinned and said, “To Enten.” He assessed the clothes, “I couldn’t get a hold of any official papers for you, but this should be enough. If you say you’re going to the Inari Shrine, no one’s likely to question it.”

Bansai waved to someone. Into view came Sentoki, dressed and ready for travel.

Iruka stood slack-jawed.

Bansai gave him a firm pat on the arm, jerking him awake. “We don’t have much time.”

Iruka shook himself, pushing confusion away, and threw off his old kimono. He examined the new one as he pulled it on. He had lived with monks all his life. He knew how to position the white layer beneath the black, and how to don the white arm guards and properly tie them. He knew how to tuck the obi just right and to wrap the straps of the sandals as they would.

As Iruka smoothed the collar neatly around his neck, he thought of Chiriku jabbing a finger at his chest. The fake monk opened his kimono slightly and peered.

There in the center of his chest was a small shadow.

He thumbed at it as if it were a smudge but there it stayed. A black mark.

He repositioned the collar and swallowed hard. Whatever it was, it had saved him that night at the Inari Shrine. It was the last gift of his mother. Regardless of what the monks thought, Iruka didn’t want to believe it was something evil.

He was about to meet them when he thought of his original escape route. He threw the futon to the side and pulled off the planks. He sat on the edge of the hole and kicked the lattice loose. He then closed the doors to the shrine behind him and locked it. When the others realized he was missing, at least Bansai and Sentoki wouldn’t be blamed for it.

The two monks were waiting.

Sentoki chuckled at the sight of him. “It suits you, Iruka. But you need to hide that hair.”

Iruka immediately pulled Bansai’s hat over his tied hair and knotted its straps under his chin. “Thank you.”

He was beyond relieved to see his old friend smiling at him again. It was the same subtle grin he showed as a child when he was being dragged into one of Asuma’s schemes.

Bansai retrieved a pouch of essentials from Sentoki and secured it to Iruka’s obi. Then he thrust a small bag at him that clinked. “That should last you for some time. I’m sorry there’s not more.”

The weight of it startled Iruka. A quick check inside confirmed it. He had never held so much money in his life. “Where did you—?”

Sentoki cast a thumb in the old man’s direction, “Bansai-sama can be pretty crafty.”

Bansai innocently shrugged. “It’s customary to receive a sum for travel on a pilgrimage. Nothing crafty about that.”

Their carefree spirits filled Iruka’s heart. These were the men he knew.

“Iruka-san.”

Iruka wasn’t prepared when Bansai stretched out his prayer beads.

“Take them with you.” His eyes crinkled kindly, “Humor an old man.”

Iruka drew back. “I can’t.”

Bansai took Iruka’s hands and held them together around the beads. His smile quivered as he spoke, “Asuma-san gave these to me when he left the temple.” It took everything in Iruka not to crumble as Bansai released the token slowly into his care. Bansai’s worn gaze rested on them for a moment, to say his final goodbye. “Please. Return them for me.”

Iruka wrapped them gingerly around his wrist and fought back stinging tears. With renewed strength, he met Bansai’s gaze. “I will. I promise I will.”

“Take care of yourself, Iruka-san. Stay safe.” Bansai passed the staff to Iruka, his last gift, “I wish there was more I could do.”

Sentoki was watching the sky. “We need to go before it gets too dark.”

A drop of water hit Iruka’s cheek. He looked into the soft green glow of the trees as the clouds released a patter of rain.

Sentoki took him by the arm and pulled him forward into the thick underbrush.

Iruka cast a final glance to Bansai. The old man waved from the stony steps.

He let Sentoki drag him off the path and down the mountain.

Once they were well on their way, the man spoke, “Chiriku-sama won’t notice you’re gone for a few days. He’s been too busy preparing for the Inari priest to arrive.” It had been a long time since Chiriku had come to the small shrine to deliver Iruka’s meals. That gave him some hope. “There have been a few strange things moving about in the woods since Asuma died, so you need to be careful.” Considering he had already been chased by a flock of demon birds, Iruka wasn’t surprised. “I can take you to the main road, but from there you’re on your own.”

The rain was starting to pick up, making Iruka very grateful for the hat Bansai had given him. Sentoki’s knowledge of the forest kept them on a safe path, even as it grew dark. They were already much farther from the temple than Iruka had ever gone.

The monk noticed Iruka’s amazement, “You’ve never been out here, have you?” He bitterly added, “I’m sorry, Iruka. What kind of friend have I been? I knew what was going on and I… I didn’t do anything about it. I don’t want to think ill of Chiriku-sama, but—”

Iruka stopped him, “Chiriku-sama does what he thinks is best for everyone. Don’t doubt him now.”

Sentoki smirked over his shoulder. “Do you want me to stick you back in the shrine?”

“Absolutely not,” Iruka huffed. He laughed and added, “Please stay conflicted until I’m off the mountain.”

Iruka leaned heavily on the staff as they went. It was surprisingly helpful to have something to balance with as they descended.

The mountain seemed to go on forever. It made him think of those legends involving enchanted forests unfortunate mortals would wander into and the maze of trees that would drive travelers insane trying to escape.

The rain was getting heavier now. There was even a rumble of thunder in the distance.

Iruka stumbled over a root and sighed, “What a pleasant night for a walk.”

Sentoki chuckled, “Well, maybe if you had put up more of a fight, we would have gotten you out sooner.”

Iruka was about to retort when he heard the call of crows and yanked at Sentoki to stop him.

Something stirred in the dark blue forest.

Iruka heard Sentoki mutter, “What’s that thing?”

On the slope of the mountain Iruka saw nothing at first. The black trunks stood out against the lush green undergrowth. Then movement drew his attention, coming out from behind a tree in the distance.

There it was. The scraggly mountain dog. Scraping through the bushes, injured and dragging its paws. It wandered around sniffing the air. Searching for something.

It caught a scent and stood straight. It followed the smell, slinking markedly in their direction.

The call of crows came again and Iruka jumped. The dog jerked its head toward the sound and crouched. Out of the branches, they came swooping. The dog leapt to the side as they swiped at it with their talons.

Concern surged in him and Iruka darted away from Sentoki. The monk scrambled to snag him, but Iruka couldn’t be stopped.

The stray snarled and snapped at the birds, but it was being overwhelmed. Iruka roared at the crows and wielded his staff as a weapon. He swatted at the birds, knocking more than a few of them and effectively spooking the rest. They veered back.

Iruka gazed down at the dog where it was crouched defensively. Its one eye pierced through him with startling intelligence, frozen in amazement.

“Run!” He bellowed.

The dog flinched, then sped into the tall grass and down the mountain.

Its retreating figure was almost enviable as Iruka looked on.

Grab your scraps and run, he thought.

Some crows swooped after it, but the majority of them had landed in the brush and on the branches around Iruka.

Something grabbed him from behind and Iruka almost smacked Sentoki in the face with his staff.

“What are you, crazy!?” Sentoki whispered harshly.

Sentoki held his beads in front of him, making a sign with his hand as he backed them away from the flock.

The birds in the trees flapped and cawed at that, but made no advances.

When they were far enough away, Sentoki pushed Iruka to start walking down the mountain again. Iruka couldn’t help but check over his shoulder.  
   
The crows coasted down to the ground and into the bushes.

Iruka wondered what they were doing, when from the underbrush small black cloaked figures rose in their place.

Iruka thought he might pass out on the spot.

They chittered to themselves, their heads twitching attentively. They watched the pair retreat. Then with a flutter of feathers, the crows took off in a flurry.

Sentoki and Iruka listened until the cawing faded.

Iruka whispered weakly, “Those were…?”

“Tengu. But I’ve never seen so many at once.” He remembered himself and smacked Iruka on the back of the head. “What the hell were you trying to pull!?”

“I—I was saving the dog.”

Sentoki groaned loudly, “That wasn’t a dog!”

Iruka glowered at him. “How do you know?”

Sentoki gestured at himself and at his beads. “Who’s the monk here? Tengu are guardians of the forest. They were protecting us from the dog!”

Iruka let out a puff of air in disbelief. Guardians? How was chasing Iruka halfway through the woods a few days ago the act of guardians?

Sentoki saw Iruka’s stubborn display and grumbled back, “Whatever. Just warn me next time you feel like getting us almost killed.”

Sentoki stormed ahead, forcing Iruka to catch up to him. When he did, he nudged him with his elbow.

“I really am sorry.”

Sentoki rolled his eyes dramatically.

Iruka sheepishly grinned, “Just like old times.”

Sentoki couldn’t help but laugh at that.

They walked through the night in the rain without any more excitement. When the wee hours brought the hint of morning, Sentoki told him they were getting close. Within the hour, Iruka could spot the winding road below.

The sun was still a ways from rising, but Sentoki was itching to return lest Chiriku miss him at breakfast.

They stood together, staring at what lie ahead for Iruka. Listening to the rain.

Iruka faced his friend. “This is it, then.”

Sentoki nodded, solemn once more, wiping the weakening rain from his face. “It is.”

“Thank you. For everything.” Iruka smiled, “I’d still be in that shrine if it weren’t for you.”

“I don’t know about that, you seemed to have a back-up plan.”

Iruka shrugged, “There’s no way I would have gotten this far.”

A little sheepish at that, Sentoki started back up the mountain, “Well, it’s not like I could let Bansai break you out on his own.” He looked back one last time, and pointed, “East is that way.”

Iruka scoffed, “I know which way is east.”

“Good!” Sentoki laughed faintly as he went on, “Keep walking and you’ll hit a post town eventually.” He stopped on the slope to give one last wave. His voice echoed in the trees, tinged with sadness. “And don’t come back!”

Iruka gripped the staff in his hand.

“I won’t.”

The lonely sound of his feet shuffling through the brush was all he could hear over the hiss of rain. By the time he reached the base of the mountain, it had gotten much warmer. For the first time, Iruka felt that summer was truly taking over.

He came to level ground and paused at the forest’s edge. He waited for his breath to catch up to him and felt the thumping of his heart settle.

With the storm rumbling at his back and Asuma’s beads pressed to his chest, Iruka stepped onto the beaten path and put the mountain firmly behind him.


	2. Mama Told Me Not To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When out of your depth,  
> Don't go looking for trouble.  
> Make some friends instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I wasn't gonna write up here, but I remembered I should put this.  
> **TRIGGER WARNING for sexual assault and attempted rape**  
> Some nasty things do happen in this chapter. This won't be a reoccurring theme, by any means.  
> To be safe, I'd say skip starting at "All he had was the seed. And the hope that the Onryou lived up to its reputation." to the page break or "Iruka put a hand on the man’s chest, checking his still beating heart."  
> Our boy is gonna be okay, but I'd be remiss if I didn't say this upfront.  
> Thanks for reading! See you at the end.

Iruka’s sandals sloshed in the mud. The hem and sleeves of his kimono were heavy with water from the downpour. In a strong gust he grabbed his woven hat, unwilling to lose what was keeping the last few inches of him dry. He dragged himself along with by his staff and peered into the relentless shower only to ensure he wasn’t about walking himself off the path.

He was sure there was a god out there somewhere mocking his miserable display.

The rain was warm. It would be almost pleasant if not for its persistence and Iruka’s lack of an umbrella. The last stop he had made was a day behind him. Too far to turn back. The innkeeper insisted he wait for the weather to clear, but Iruka’s fear of pursuit by anyone from Kurama-dera pushed him on. The river to the south glistened through the trees. Blotches of sunlight passed across the fields his path would soon meet. He had followed the river thus far. He had no choice but to trust it would take him east, as the other travelers had instructed him.

Ahead he noticed a particularly scraggly tree and, more importantly, an unstable looking lean-to built on the other side of the narrow path. He splashed to it and plopped on the bench inside.

Setting the hat on his lap, he slumped into the wall. At this age he was starting to recognize a consistent aching in his body, as if his youth was finally draining from his joints. He was getting too old for these kinds of adventures.

A breeze came in and coated him in cool, soothing air. He leaned into it with a sigh. The layer of white fabric peeking from under his black kimono was damp with sweat. He was sure this balmy spring would soon become an unbearable summer. He untied the white, sopping cover on his forearm and peeled it over his hand to finally yank off his fingers. While they might be of some symbolic importance to the monks, they were purely costume to Iruka and an unnecessary hindrance when soaking wet. He freed his other hand and crammed the bundle into the pouch hanging from his obi. His disguise could wait for the gates of Enten.

His thoughts were pulled back to the temple he had left behind. He fondly recalled the good food and peaceful company that once waited for him. Where the most troubling day to day events were roof leaks and children’s’ vandalism. He missed their modest ease that made silences feel full. There was a tight pang in his chest and he rubbed his prayer beads in his fingers.

Despite Sentoki’s last request, Iruka would return one day. He would try.

He heard a huff and lifted his head. On the right of the trunk was a small hokora shrine made of stone—now eroding. Left of the tree’s base was a large clump of something gray. Curiosity brought Iruka off the bench.

He couldn’t tell if it was a clump of strange moss or a growth from the tree root.

Then the wad slowly rose and fell.

Iruka rushed over to the living beast and used his hat to shield it from the rain. It was curled up with paws resting over its nose. One eye drifted open and Iruka recognized it instantly.

It was the stray from Mt. Kurama.

Up close, the dog was much less intimidating. The wildness had gone from its look.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

The dog ignored him and resumed its napping.

Iruka knelt down more to its level and brought the hat over them both. He noticed its other eye was sealed by a wound. He wanted to take a better look at it, but Iruka imagined the stray wouldn’t care too much for that.

In a patient voice, he cooed to the animal, “You shouldn’t sleep out here, big dog.”

Its rest irrevocably disturbed, the dog lifted its head and shot Iruka a disgruntled glare. Thunder cracked overhead, making Iruka jump a little.

Its gaze was markedly intelligent. Yet here it sat, soaked to the bone with chilling rain.

Iruka averted his eyes, suddenly feeling sorry for waking it. “I mean, it’s pouring. You should lie under some cover, at least.”

The stray stared at Iruka, unmoving. Then recognition dawned. Iruka could tell it remembered him.

He gave it an encouraging nod. “Hey, yeah! You know me. Come on!” He stood and beckoned it. “Let’s get under something. We don’t want to sit in the rain all day.”

Clearly not a fan of being talked down to, the dog gave a showy yawn and crossed its paws over its nose, settling down to sleep once more.

Iruka snapped at the disrespectful gesture, “What did I save you for if you’re just gonna let yourself get sick out here! I’m—” He stopped himself, then took a deep breath as he realized, “—talking to a dog…” He brushed the fallen strands of hair from his forehead and calmed himself. “I’m talking to a dog.”

The absurdity of their interaction settled in and, with a deep exhale, Iruka squatted once more beside the beast.

He stuck an elbow on his knee to prop his head up. The rain carried on, soaking his back, but Iruka didn’t really notice. He simply started at the intelligent creature as they rested in a stalemate.

The dog peered from its pouting pose. Observing the defeat in Iruka, its tail wagged once.

Iruka chuckled at the endearing action, then quickly reconsidered. “You’re probably not even a dog. You could be some swamp monster waiting to swallow me up.”

The dog’s tail twitched as if to wag again, but gave an insulted huff instead.

“You really should get under some cover, regardless. I’m sure you’re cold. Even if you are a demon.” Iruka snickered, leaning heavily into his hand. “I’m must pretty desperate for company if I’m willing to sit here and talk to you anyway.”

The dog opened its eye at that and the two watched each other as the rain roared steadily around them.

Iruka could feel the dog’s steady gaze break him open. Despite his best efforts to forget, it reminded him how truly alone he was.

Unable to bear it, Iruka sifted through his pouch. He placed a strip of dried meat next to the stray and stood. He took a deep breath and spared a moment to pay his respects to the small shrine.

Then Iruka put on his hat and gave a saddened farewell to the creature. “Take care of yourself.”

Iruka had lingered long enough. He pivoted in the mud and journeyed on in the unyielding rain.

He distracted himself with planning. If he kept his pace, he would make it to the next post town well before nightfall. He had eaten most of the food Bansai left him, save a few dried scraps. He had plenty of money for a room and whatever else he desired, but he had no intention of burning through it before getting to Enten.

Something padding over to him from behind and there was another huff. Iruka turned and the dog stopped in the road. It stared with one wide eye, dripping with rain and chewing zealously on the jerky.

It started to wind up, twisting its head, and Iruka realized too late what it intended to do.

“No, no, no, no!”

The dog shook madly, sending a drenching spray of water all over Iruka. When it finished, Iruka wiped the water from his face with a loud grumble. It padded closer to him with a spring in its step and a few pounds lighter.

Iruka shook his head angrily and showed the stray his empty hands. “I don’t have any more food for you.”

The dog glowered, unbelieving.

Iruka turned on his heel and trudged ahead, fuming. The demon dog was nothing but trouble and he didn’t need to encourage it.

He walked on until his frustration dissolved.

He glanced behind to see if the dog still followed, but it had vanished.

Disappointment flooded in and Iruka’s shoulders sagged.

“Well…” he said quietly to no one, “That’s that.”

After another hour, the muddy path was finally starting to slope downhill. One side dropped off, giving him a clear view of the rice fields. It wouldn’t be long before he was free of the woods. Anything would be better than tripping over tree roots and sloshing though mud.

He followed the bend and spotted something moving in the trees. The spindly underbrush cleared just off the path to reveal a young woman struggling with her load.

The image was oddly familiar.

He sprinted through the cutting brambles to offer his help. “Excuse me. Are you alright?”

As he came to her, the young woman looked up. Her face was flawlessly pale and her black hair was sleek with water. Her plain kimono was soaked through, revealing her shape beneath it.

Iruka’s chest thumped loudly. He felt himself flush. “Let me… assist you.”

The woman smiled and passed him her pack. It felt like a sack of rocks as he flung it onto his shoulder.

Iruka ignored his thudding heart. “Are you going far?”

The woman said nothing. Her thin red lips were etched in a grin. She took his arm and pulled him into her side. Iruka gazed bashfully at the trees as he guided them back to the road, trying not to think of the warm softness pressing into him.

On the path again, Iruka guided her carefully.

“This rain is terrible, isn’t it? There’s a post town not far from here, so I’m told.”

The bag seemed to grow heavier and Iruka’s feet sank in the mud. He thought he saw the woman’s red smile widen and just when he turned to look, he slipped close to the cliff’s edge.

Iruka staggered back, “Oh, be careful! It’s—”

There was something slick on his hand and he could have sworn he saw the woman’s hair move up his arm.

A vicious snarl from behind made them both jumped.

Standing on the gnarled roots of an old tree above them was the stray. Its black eye pierced through them.  The hackles on its body bristled as it lowered aggressively into a crouch. Iruka prepared to shield the woman when he caught a glance at her.

The color drained from the woman’s hair, lifting off her shoulders as it did like spider threads. Her limbs stretched too long, aging as they did, and her face transformed into that of a terrifying, shriveled old woman.

A memory flashed in Iruka—he had seen this woman before. In the woods. Her lanky silhouette batting away the crows as they attacked her.

Her painted lips stretched into an unnatural blood red smile. They parted to bare the thin pearly needles that were her teeth.

Something else had followed Iruka from the mountain.

He shut his mouth on a scream and dropped the woman’s bag. When it struck the earth, it dissolved into mud and rocks. A tendril of white snuck up on him and Iruka staggered back. It caught his wrist and started reeling him in. Iruka dug his heels into the mud and fought to tug free.

The dog’s growl blended into a howl and the creature covered its ears. Its hair slithered fearfully, curling in like spider legs and releasing Iruka. He collapsed back into the brambles. The witch hissed at the stray, momentarily sparing Iruka, and clamored up the incline after it.

The dog didn’t hesitate. It leapt at the hag, ripping its white hair away. The thunder rumbled angrily above them, followed by a dangerous snap of lightning. The witch hissed and cowered into herself. She searched the clouds. The dog lunged at her, but the hag was faster. Her hair tangled around the dog’s ankle and slung it down into the mud.

Iruka grasped at the branches close by to pull himself up and they snapped in his hand.

The witch turned her glass eyes on him again at the sound and opened her mouth in a high-pitched scream. Her hair slithered after Iruka and the clouds roared again. In a powerful flash, a sliver of light struck the ground between them with explosive power.

The hag wailed as she shielded herself from the light and she skittered fearfully away into the trees, leaving Iruka collapsed in the mud and mess of branches, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

The ground sizzled as the rain put out the scorched scar the lightning had made only feet from him.

He sat there panting and flinched when he saw movement from the lip of the road.

The stray’s shaggy head reappeared. It trotted down to Iruka, stopping at his feet. Its one eye was half open and full of judgement for the stupid death Iruka had only narrowly avoided.

When Iruka said nothing, the dog let out a reproachful huff.

“Th-thank you.” Iruka laughed nervously. Cautiously, he dug in his pouch to retrieved the last of his food and offered it.

The stray wrenched it from his hand and eagerly chewed. It examined him and, once satisfied, it went ahead on the road. Iruka’s eyes trailed—stupefied.

It paused on the path, then gave a beckoning jerk of the head when Iruka didn’t move. He scrambled to his feet and went along after it.

They walked on but Iruka was still completely stunned. The dog seemed rather chipper and eventually paced itself a few feet to Iruka’s left. Its dark eye watched him as if to reassure him.

Terrified by his brush with death, but thrilled by their reunion, Iruka fought a smile.

In no time at all, they fled the forest for good. They broke out of the trees as the rain faded to barely a sprinkle. Just enough to keep the air cool.

The rice fields stretched out north and south of them. A light fog rolled on the farmland, but only by the patches of sunlight. The farmers tended their crops without interruption, uninterested in the mud-lagged monk and his ragged dog.

Far down their path, there were signs of the post town emerging from the mist. There would be an inn, hot food, and shops waiting for him there. The thought of new shoes almost brought Iruka to tears.

The sun peeked out, warming him. He let the hat fall back and hang from the tie around his neck. He stretched the collar of his kimono and sighed loudly.

The dog followed suit and gave another good shake, sending water and mud flying off him.

Iruka shielded himself from the onslaught and laughed helplessly.

When the dog was done, it gave a contented huff. Iruka rolled his eyes and sniggered at his bizarre companion. He looked up at the parting clouds and couldn’t help but feel a wave of excitement overcome him. Was it relief? Or maybe he was in shock. The various unbelievable things he had experienced were beginning to pile up.

All the same, he couldn’t hold back the jittery feeling rising within him any longer.

He took one heavy step, then another. Spurred on by the buzzing warmth spreading through him, he broke into a sprint down the road.

He ran as fast and as hard as he could. Unlike his run on the mountain, there were no obstacles to slow him down. The dog sprinted beside him. He imagined how strange it probably looked to the farmers. A grown man—a monk, no less—running and laughing with his dog after getting soaked in the rain.

Iruka didn’t care. He let himself laugh and cry out. The warmth rose in his cheeks and a few happy tears squeezed out.

Bansai was right. He had been quiet for too long.

He and the dog practically sprinted the rest of the way.

When the road weaved toward the first building, Iruka finally slowed to a stop. He braced his hands on his knees and caught his breath. The dog stuck beside him, its tongue hanging out as it panted.

“—too old—!” He shouted breathlessly at the ground, “I’m too old for this!”

He stood straight and fixed his kimono. The dog waited expectantly.

Iruka ruffled the dog’s head with a chuckle. “I hope you got a good laugh out of that.”

Despite the indifferent look on its face, the dog’s tail whipped back and forth with mirth. Then its stomach growled loudly and it broke from him to walk toward the town.

Iruka followed, shaking his head, “I got it, I got it. I’ll give you anything you want.”

As they came around the first building, a booming voice made the man and stray jump.

“What the hell should I pay him for!? If anything, he owes me for the merchandise I lost!”

There was a woman with a head of pale pink hair standing by an impressive pack that passed her hip. The base was a chest comprised of drawers in assorted sizes with stubby wooden legs that kept it out of the mud. Attached to the top was fabric woven on a frame, stuffed to bursting.

“I’m not paying a bodyguard that lets me get mugged!”

A representative of the post town stood between her and a pitiful rounin. He did his best to defend the young samurai. “You hired him. It’s your responsibility to pay him for accepting the job—”

Her head tilted so harshly, Iruka thought her neck might snap. “Oh, because he accepted the job. I see.” She grabbed the onlookers’ attention with her volume, “So if I hired you to clean my house and you burned it down, I would owe you for the job you had accepted?”

From the storefronts and buildings, a small crowd had begun to gather. Neighbors and shopkeepers muttered amongst themselves.

The woman went on, “Is this the way you conduct business, officer?”

“What? No, I—”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to swindle me.” The woman revealed her short wakizashi sword at her side, tapping on it with an impatient rhythm.

The crowd echoed her complaints, pointing accusatory fingers at the officer and the rounin.

The officer was in a full panic, “No! I’m not!—” Iruka could almost see the rounin’s swords wilting. “I’m so sorry for your trouble, ma’am. Of course, you won’t be charged.”

The woman smiled tightly, “Good. Are we done?” The woman hoisted the massive pack effortlessly onto her shoulders. The officer started to say something else, turning on the rounin now, but the woman stopped him. “Don’t worry, I’m won’t ask for money back. What I lost was easily worth more than what you both make in a year.” She took a step and pointed at the samurai. “But you owe me, you understand?”

The rounin whimpered, bowing his head low. “I-I will protect you with my life!”

She tied her hat in place. “Learn to protect yourself first, then we’ll talk.”

She stormed off, leaving the dozen or so bystanders to gradually disperse.         

Iruka jogged after her.

“Haruno-sensei!”

As soon as she saw his face, she brightened. “Shishou! It’s been a while.” She took one look at his apparel and immediately amended, “Or should I call you Obou-san?”

Iruka flushed. It was mortifying to be addressed so wrongly, “No! No, I’m not—… It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure.” Sakura put her hands on her waist and raised a curious brow, “I don’t think I’ve seen you off the temple grounds before. Or in monk’s robes, no less.” In her appraisal, she spotted his filthy shoes, “We have to do something about those.”

Without an ounce of effort, she whipped off the massive pack and curled it one handed to the ground. She sorted through the fabric section for a bit, then produced a pair of geta. The wooden teeth of the shoes were terribly worn.

“They may be a little small, but they’ll get you by.”

Iruka kicked off his old shoes and ruined tabi socks to don the new set. “Thank you so much, these are perfect.”

She lifted the pack again, eying him curiously, “What brings you here?” She seemed to remember herself and apologized, “If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

Iruka laughed, “You don’t have to be so formal, sensei.” His thoughts drifted through the various reasons he had to leave the mountain and whether he should burden his old student with them before finally landing on the explanation he had grown accustomed to giving. “I’m traveling to Enten for a funeral.”

Sakura saw through his meaning instantly.

“Ah. Of course,” she said with thinly veiled anger. “Asuma-sama.”

The reaction was unexpected to say the least.

Sakura saw how she’d thrown Iruka and softened, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “You were close with him, weren’t you? I’m so sorry.” Sakura searched the storefronts. “Let’s find a place to sit and catch up. There’s a good bar nearby that serves pickled daikon.”

He trailed her apprehensively and the dog followed.

Sakura immediately stopped and examined their strange third wheel.

“Is that your dog, Umino-san?”

They studied its oddly pensive face. To Iruka’s surprise, it ambled to his side and bumped its head under his hand.

Iruka was delighted and scratched its ear, “It saved me. From a mountain witch… I think?”

She blinked in disbelief. “A what?” Then she gave an open mouthed groan. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His brows knit together. “I had been doing very well up until that point.”

“Of course you were.” She pointed at the dog, “With your luck, that’s probably a demon too.”

The stray and man locked into the other’s gaze as they had grown fond of doing.

Considering everything, Iruka held little doubt it was some kind of otherworldly creature. The tengu certainly didn’t like it, which was suspicious. Iruka had also heard of dog spirits that would guide travelers on their way if you prayed to them. Perhaps it was one of those. After all, if it really wanted to eat him, why save him from the witch? Then he considered it might just be trying to keep Iruka for itself.

Unable to decide, Iruka shrugged, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Sakura gave him a wide-eyed stare. “That’s your problem, Shishou! You have no sense of self-preservation.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re just that type.”

In response the stray licked its chops, leaving a small part of its tongue sticking out.

Iruka laughed, completely charmed.

She pointed critically at the dog, “See? This.”

His patience tested, Iruka cut her short. “Sakura.”

Her old teacher’s scolding tone ended it. With noticeably less bravado, she gave one last condemning grunt.

“Don’t blame me if it tries to eat you later.”

He put on a polite smile, “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

When they pushed through the shabby noren curtains into the shop, the dog stayed to guard the door. Sakura kept her eye on it, but it seemed content to wait outside.

It was a spacious bar, though a little rundown. There were elevated tatami mats with a few low tables on them lining the back walls, and two tall tables with stools by the entrance, one of which was available. Sakura sat there with her back in the corner and Iruka across from her.

Sakura hadn’t changed much since he last saw her. She was already well-traveled and utterly fearless even as a young girl. Despite her patchy attire, she was a beautiful woman now. Iruka never knew why she had chosen the life of a migrant doctor and medicine merchant. He had little to teach her whenever she did stop in for his classes, but she had always been eager to learn something new. For many years now she had supported his temple as a physician and as one of their few links to the outside world. Unfortunately for Iruka, Sakura was fairly astute and he didn’t have much confidence in his ability to lie to her. He would have to keep their visit short, lest he drag her into his troubles.

Sakura was keeping a close eye on the door, hardly paying attention as she ordered the food and saké. Iruka threw in a request for scraps from the kitchen, hoping they might appease the stray.

She asked him, “When did you hear about Asuma-sama?”

He stammered, unprepared for her to leap right onto the topic. Sakura didn’t seem to notice. “A-a few weeks ago, I guess. I couldn’t leave right away.”

“Who’s next in line is still up for debate. It was supposed to be Konohamaru-sama, but now people are questioning his parentage, even though the Daimyo already claimed him as his grandson.” Sakura added darkly, “For now, we’ll just have to hope the Daimyo doesn’t decide to kick it any time soon.”

The server approaching their table happened to hear that and hastily placed their dishes.

Sakura watched them go, as if waiting for them to pick a fight. In fact, Sakura seemed very wary of every individual in the bar.

She poured saké for Iruka and he returned the kindness. Iruka took his first swig a little too desperately. He hadn’t really heard anything about Asuma’s other family or the order of succession in their time together. It had never been relevant in their mountain town.

They sat in silence for a moment while Iruka pulled his thoughts together.

He rambled nervously. “Our head monk told me Asuma-san had been sick for months. Is that true?”

Sakura merely nodded, eyes on her saké.

“I had no idea,” he continued. He stifled the creeping sadness in his voice, “I hope he was at peace in the end.”

Sakura dwelled on that for a moment, then diverted. “He would have made a great leader. The nobility isn’t the same without him. With Konohamaru-sama next in line, there’s a lot of power shifting. A lot of uncertainty.”

He was a little startled by her coldness. Iruka hadn’t thought about what kind of trouble losing a political figure like Asuma could cause for the people of Enten.

He realized Sakura was observing him and sat up straight. Her gaze softened and he saw his young friend again. She gave his hand a gentle pat.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you, Umino-san. Have you been avoiding me?”

Iruka chuckled, relieved at her changed demeanor. “Hardly. What about you? Don’t have time anymore to visit old friends? Or have you set up shop in Enten?”

“No way,” she sneered and took a bite of radish. “I’m just stopping in for a bit.”

“Really? You could make a nice living in the city, I’m sure of it.”

Sakura gave a mocking laugh. “There’s no profit in staying put. Not when there are new discoveries being made out here every day for me to monopolize.” She took a sip from her cup. “I’ll take care of my business in the city and move on, like always.”

“Isn’t it dangerous out here?” He dug at her gently, “I mean, didn’t you just get robbed?”

She was caught off-guard, “Oh, you saw that. Right.” She brushed it off quickly, “Well, you can have a bad day anywhere.”

Iruka seemed to be learning that lesson the hard way.

She swirled her saké and quietly added, “Enten might not be as glamorous as they say, Umino-san.”

Iruka’s heart throbbed in his throat as he remembered what waited for him in the city.

“Do you mean the Onryou?”

The woman was genuinely surprised. “You heard about that, did you?” She scoffed, “I guess a place like Kurama-dera would be worried about a giant demon cloud showing up out of nowhere. As if Enten didn’t have enough problems…”

Iruka’s stomach dropped. “What about the land god?”

Sakura snorted, “He’s proving to be pretty ineffective for a god of prosperity and peace. And the Inari Shrine hasn’t had any luck removing the demon cloud or whatever it is, so people aren’t too happy with them at the moment.” Then she spotted the sincerity in Iruka’s face. “He’s fine, Umino-san. The land god is safe.”

That lifted a weight off him. The thought of that boy facing the same entity that killed an entire shrine of people sent chills down his spine.

“Do they know what it is? Where it came from?”

Sakura shrugged, “Some people say it’s Asuma-sama.”

Iruka’s cup clicked loudly as he put it down.

“I said some people,” she amended defensively.

Without hesitation, Iruka admonished her. “There was no way a person as compassionate as Asuma would become something like that in death.”

His tormented expression jarred her and she scrambled to explain herself, “I’m sorry, Shishou. That was… rude.” Sakura scrunched her nose, “I’m not the biggest fan of demons and gods, so I really don’t know much of that gossip. I don’t think it’s true, or anything.”

Iruka’s agitation dissolved instantly into shame. He finished his cup with a sigh. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize for the outburst or address her for calling him a teacher again.

“It’s fine, Sakura. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I was out of line,” she said, putting her hand over his.

With that, the tension dissolved.

Sakura couldn’t help but comment. “It really is good to see you again. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

Iruka couldn’t agree more.

She carried on, “I haven’t been in very good company lately. Or really with any company at all. It’s been a long time since I’ve met up with someone I truly trust.”

The hint of weakness in her words made Iruka’s heart ache, but before he could form a response, a new thought brightened Sakura and she quickly topped off his cup.

“How would you like to go on an errand with me, Umino-san? It’s not far.”

Her eyes twinkled with the innocent need of a former student, but her grin spelled trouble.

Iruka cringed, “I, uh— It… depends on the errand.”

Sakura put on the most pitiful face she could muster. “You’d really be doing me a favor. I just need someone to go on a little trip with me.”

“Does it happen to be the same trip you got mugged on?”

Sakura munched on some radish and chose to remain silent.

Iruka grumbled, accepting the bait, “What would you need from me?” Sakura took a breath to begin, but Iruka interrupted her, “—If I choose to accept.”

That was all the affirmation she needed. “My supplier lives in the woods on the way to Enten. I just need a buddy with me on the road to dissuade any thugs who might try to rob me.”

Before Sakura could finish, Iruka was shaking his head fervently.

“You should hire a professional. I’m no bodyguard.”

“I already tried that and look what happened.” Sakura kept her voice low. “I can’t risk it.” She tried to keep her playful glint, but real concern was seeping through. “My supplier has been experiencing some theft and I’m almost certain it’s one of the mercenaries our boss hired to protect her that’s responsible. Not long after he came on, some thugs found my route to her fields and have been harassing me ever since. I know he’s the traitor, but my boss won’t do anything until I have proof.” She guzzled her cup. “She’d like to send someone new to escort me, but I don’t know who to trust at this point. The rounin I hired was too spineless to do any good.”

Iruka poured for her as she jammed pickled daikon into her mouth.

She chewed with a mischievous glint. “That’s why, Umino-san. At times like these the only people we can rely on are our friends. I know I can trust you.”

Iruka was still shaking his head. “This doesn’t sound safe.”

“You do dangerous things all the time!”

Iruka was stunned, “When have I ever—!”

She pat his arm reassuringly, “I’m not expecting you to fight anyone for me, Umino-san. I can handle myself.” That did little to make Iruka feel better. She tried again, “They just want my supplies. If worse comes to worse, I’ll hand them over.”

He grimaced. “I’d like to help, but I really can’t afford the delay.”

Sakura was winning him over and she knew it.

“They’re close by. It’ll only take an extra day.”

“I have to get to Enten—”

“We’re still within the forty-nine days of mourning. Plenty of time before the funeral.”

Iruka hid behind his cup and finished his saké. As he lowered it, Sakura was ready with the bottle. She had another plot up her sleeve.

“How about this? If you outdrink me, you’re off the hook.”

Iruka, incredulous, raised a brow. Iruka was confident he could lift and throw the woman sitting across from him—albeit with some serious effort.

“Really?”

Sakura nodded, wiggling the bottle in her hand.

 Pride won over his better judgement.

He puffed out his chest with a smug grin. “I didn’t train in the mountains all these years for nothing.”

Like a snake that had its rabbit cornered, Sakura emptied the bottle into his cup and called to the bar owner, “Master! Another round!”

A few bottles in, their loud boasting caught the interest of the bored regulars—the majority of them elderly. Iruka was still a little distrustful of the older women, but they proved mostly harmless. They shoved drinks at the pair, swarming the table and buying bottle after bottle, bullying them with lamentations of their wasted youth when they tried to refuse.

The ruckus drew others in from the street and soon enough the place was packed.

Iruka could barely see straight. His thoughts swirled together and he suddenly remembered the stray outside. He thought of the food he had promised to deliver and was almost certain that the beast wouldn’t have been satisfied with the meager scraps Iruka had sent its way. With new purpose in mind, Iruka toppled from the stool into the patrons, who whooped and hollered in response. The master of the bar promptly called the match in Sakura’s favor.

Sakura sat casually, elbow resting on the table. Her cheeks were red, but her vision was clear. “What kind of training did you do, Obou-san?”

She toasted the cup to him and drained it.

Iruka barred his teeth at her and enunciated, “Bite me.”

One laugh echoed in response from the far corner of the room above the others, like a rumbling.

Iruka’s head floated on his shoulders to see.

At the furthest table, men and women alike leaned in toward a ghostly man with silver hair. He wore a light blue kimono loose enough on his shoulders to reveal a dark tattoo along his collar bone.

Those amused eyes turned on Iruka just as something glinted red under the lantern’s glow.

The lights dimmed for Iruka and he swam in a drunk abyss.

 The downpour brought him around. His chest throbbed weakly. Cold and rigid. His arm was tugged across Sakura’s shoulders as she helped him to a hotel. Thunder droned and lightning flickered in the purple sky. They made it inside and Sakura unceremoniously dumped Iruka onto the futon. She staggered out, sliding the door shut.

Sleep was setting in when he realized the window was still open, drenching the tatami floor. He stumbled to the window and light flashed in the clouds.

He heard whining.

The stray was squeezed against the wall, trying to fit under the awning. It was shivering and glaring at him.

Iruka stuck his head out of the building and tossed it left and right. The coast clear, he wrapped the dog in his clumsy arms and hauled it over the sill. It thrashed and grunted in a frenzy.

Iruka fell backwards and the two crashed on the floor. Thunder smacked.

He snuggled into the wiggling animal until eventually it gave up with a huff.

He listened to the beast’s quickened heart. It reverberated through Iruka. He stroked the stray’s neck absently and gradually its beating slowed. Iruka felt his own grow calm and match pace.

Finally warm and at peace, sleep took him with the window left agape.

 

* * *

 

 The cry of the Inari’s newborn resounded numbly as Iruka blinked awake and the familiar dream faded. Sakura had an herbal tea ready to ease his aching head and tumbling stomach. The dog was nowhere in sight.

“Get it together! We’ve got a full day ahead of us.” She walked onto a wet patch in the floor. “Did you leave the window open?”

“I have to go to En—” Sakura aggressively whipped the futon out from under him. “Enten.”

Sakura victoriously smiled above him, “We had a bet, Umino-san.”

Iruka rolled onto his belly and moaned loudly into the bundled blanket.

Sakura attached a small stack of boxes to her hip, held together by two chords running through them. A large, spiraling snail shaped bead secured a knot at the top. Presumably they contained some of her medicinal fare for easy access.

“There won’t be any breakfast for you if you don’t hurry.” She closed the door after her.

Iruka staggered onto his feet. He was only wearing his white kosode. He didn’t remember folding his kimono, but there it sat in a neat stack. He whipped on his clothes and grabbed his pouch. He took his time to enjoy the tea. It was thick with ginger and something he couldn’t identify that turned the brew bright yellow. He recalled the wet wadded arm covers he had stowed the day before. Iruka snatched them from his bag and hung them on the window sill, praying they wouldn’t blow away. Lastly, he threw on the beads and pressed them to his lips once before leaving.

The rest of the inn was dead silent as he tiptoed to the front and tied on the shoes Sakura had lent him. The state of the sky outside hit him with disbelief. The sun was not up yet. Not even close. And it was raining again. Why on earth did Sakura need to see her supplier at this time and on this kind of day? His frustration went from a simmer to a boil, then instantly made him nauseated.

Sakura was waiting for him with an umbrella in one hand and a hefty wrapped bento in the other that she hopefully intended to share. The dog sat by her, wagging its tail and chewing aggressively on a piece of meat. When it saw Iruka it stopped chomping and glared, teeth slightly exposed.

Someone snuck by to greet Sakura, giving Iruka’s tired heart a jump start.

The older woman approached the dog and its tail wagged with a new passion. She gave him a pat. It was clear who had provided the food this morning. “I’ll save your rooms for you, sensei.” She greeted Iruka with a slight bow and he immediately sobered. He returned the gesture, embarrassed of himself and the state of the room he had left for her to find. “You’re going with Sakura-sensei today, Obou-sama? Please keep her out of trouble.” She handed him an umbrella with a wink. He decided it would take too much energy to correct her.

They bid the old woman good-day and traveled north along the seam of rice paddies. The farmers were already getting to work, despite the weather.

The dog cantered ahead of them, breaking occasionally to shake off the rain.

Sakura snickered, “The dog is a nice touch. He looks absolutely terrifying.”

Just then, the dog turned to look back at them. It’s tongue flopped out the side of its open and panting mouth.

They walked until the sun was high. When they stopped for a break, Sakura handed Iruka and the dog their portions of food.

“So your supplier—”

“Shizune.”

“Shizune-san. She grows your herbs for you?”

“For a substantial cut, of course. She has a gift for raising foreign plants.”

“Is that… legal?”

Sakura gauged Iruka’s reaction as she spoke. “No. Shizune makes… less conventional remedies. Things to induce vomiting, thin out your blood… Effects that can save a life in dire circumstances. It takes a lot of skill to make medicine strong enough to work, but not outright kill you.”

Iruka’s fragile stomach flopped.

Sakura finished her food and stowed the bento. “I don’t want you to think Shizune has any ill intentions. Her customers often have private reasons for seeking her out, but some would consider what she makes poison. It wouldn’t be that far of a jump for her.”

“That’s what the thieves…?”

She hissed, adjusting the pack on her shoulders as she stood. “I’d rather they just take my money.”

Their path led into the woods and the shade was a pleasant change. Eventually they came to a wall of cliffs that stopped their progress. The impasse stretched seemingly without end in both directions. Iruka looked to Sakura for guidance, but it was the dog that found their path. The stray bounded up to the wall, sniffing. Then it disappeared behind a formation that jutted out from the cliffs. Sakura and Iruka followed it, discovering a narrow divide in the wall that stretched forward into darkness.

Sakura stepped inside and Iruka trailed fearfully. They descended between the rocks, and gradually the sun was shut out behind them. The weak glow filtering down from above was just enough to light their steps.

In the shadows, Sakura presented the crevice with her hands.

She whispered and it echoed slightly, “This is where they got me last time. Going around would take almost half a day. Unless you feel like climbing.”

Iruka put himself on high alert.

Sakura chuckled at the sight. “Don’t worry, Umino-san. I don’t have any goods for them to steal yet.”

They progressed without interruption until the clearing came into view. The first thing he saw was a trio of plum trees that framed a small house. A variety of shrubs, saplings, and vines littered the property. Surrounding the house itself was a mess of wildflowers.

The long grass before them glistened in the rain.

Sakura stopped at the edge of the woods. She gave a troubled sigh, then stepped into the light.

The dog launched itself into the tall grass, bobbing up and down from within it with great leaps.

Two armed guards marked their approach. The first one wore darkened glasses and had his kimono sleeves tied up with a cord. A short sword like Sakura’s was sheathed at his hip.

He stretched his arms to her. “Sakura-san! We were wondering when you’d show up. Our lady hasn’t slept a wink since she heard what happened to you.”

Sakura’s mood instantly shifted to revulsion.

“No thanks to you, Yoroi. It’s no wonder there are bandits crawling all over Shizune’s land.”

Yoroi threw up his hands. “Listen, I’m paid to protect the lady and the plants. They can do whatever they want with the rest of it.”

“So long as they don’t burn down the forest we’re in.” The second armed guard remained by the door as he spoke. His hair was loose and he had a pattered bandana knotted at his forehead. From his lip hung a long toothpick.

Sakura knew that voice. “Genma, how’s it going?”

The man perked. “Good to see you, Sakura. It’s been a while.” Then he gave Iruka a small, respectful bow, “Obou-san.”

He tried to correct him, “No, I’m—”

Yoroi continued, “If you asked nicely, I’m sure Tsunade would get a guard for you too.”

Sakura fiercely replied, “I lost a lot of merchandise because you’re too lazy to do your job properly. And I don’t like a sword for hire throwing out the boss’s name so casually. Know your place.”

“Woah! Genma, you hear that?”

The dog’s fur bristled and it swayed to come between Yoroi and Sakura. Iruka stammered peaceful encouragements behind them, but was unheard.

“I’m not talking to him. I’m talking to you.”

“Why all the hostility? How do you know it wasn’t Genma’s fault?”

“Genma doesn’t have his head up his ass.”

A voice came from the tall grass by Shizune’s house.

“Now, now. Let the man be, missy.”

The older man hiding there rose up, almost a full head above them thanks to the strikingly tall geta on his feet. He adjusted the red haori draping over his short green kimono and pants that were folded to the knee. His long white hair was tied but horribly disheveled. His cheeks were tattooed with red streaks coming from his eyes. Iruka had never seen face tattoos on a person before, but he knew such marks to be the indication of a former criminal. He tried not to noticeably gulp.

The man’s voice, despite his aged appearance, was resonant and strong. “He knows he’s done wrong. So will your boss, I’m sure.”

Yoroi rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing to tell, old man.”

“Sakura.” Shizune stepped from the house, grinding something with a mortar and pestle. The action was nervous. “You’re two days late.”

Sakura came straight over, taking a small pouch from the boxes on her hip.

“I brought you more tobacco. Where’s your book, Shizune? Let’s take our time and chat.”

Before she could protest, Sakura led her into the house.

The pair vanished, leaving the men to their business.

They could hear Sakura inside saying, “What do you have for me today?”

The white haired man returned to his place in the grass. The stray sniffed the air around him. The man smiled and put out a hand. The stray took tentative steps at first, then it moseyed over and sat together with him.

Genma chuckled, “And we’re back to doing nothing.”

Yoroi crossed his arms and suggested offhandedly, “If Shizu-chan let us help once in a while, maybe she could relax a little.”

Sakura reappeared to answer him, then made a beeline for Iruka. “I don’t trust you to know honey from your own piss, Yoroi.”

Genma whistled while Yoroi smiled tightly. “You win, princess.” Then he stormed off.

Genma called to him, “Where are you going?”

“To look for bandits!”

Genma snickered when Yoroi was out of earshot.

She shoved a well-used book and a basket into Iruka’s hands. “Get me the goji berries, reishi mushrooms, honeysuckle, hawthorn, and red clover.” She stabbed the book with her finger on each word. “Berries, mushrooms, honeysuckle, hawthorn, clover. Got it?”

He scrambled to lock her commands in his head, but she had disappeared before he could ask any questions. He repeated the list to himself, but couldn’t help his growing frustration. Sakura clearly thought Yoroi was guilty. What was she playing at?

Genma took a few of the baskets propped on the house. “I’ll help you, Obou-san. Just show me what I’m looking for.”

It was too late to tell him otherwise, so ‘Obou-san’ he was. “What about your… colleague?”

Genma smiled. “He’ll come back or he won’t.”

The two of them found the small group of goji trees hugging the floodplain. The book described the berry’s ideal ripeness, and they quickly cleared the tree of those ready to be picked. The mushrooms were also simple to find, growing on the trunks of the plum trees.

To Iruka’s relief, Genma drifted into small talk.

“How do you know Sakura?”

Iruka answered warmly. “She’s provided her services to my temple for a long time now. She usually stays with us while she does business in the area.”

“Which temple?”

“Kurama-dera.”

The toothpick twitched, “Oh! I hear your fire festivals are very exciting.”

Iruka went red. “We tend to get a little rowdy.”

Rowdy was an understatement. For one night every autumn hordes of nearly naked men ran wild. Carrying torches, wearing masks, and drinking up the saké the villagers had spent the past year brewing from dusk ‘til dawn. After spending the whole day boozing and building a giant shrine from freshly cut trees, villagers and travelers alike would break into a ceremonious brawl where they competed to either light the shrine, or defend it. Bansai used to say if you remembered the event, you didn’t try hard enough.

He almost dove into the story of Asuma and Kurenai’s meeting, but held back. For a moment there, he had forgotten himself. He jerked himself painfully back into reality.

“I’ll have to visit for the next one.” Genma nudged Iruka with an elbow. “You can give me the inside tour.”

Iruka dabbed his forehead with his sleeve. “I’d be happy to.” He clumsily changed topic, “What about you, Genma-san? Did you meet Haruno-sensei in Enten?”

He nodded.

“Do you work for the same employer?”

Genma glanced at him and smirked. “We’re associates, yes.”

Iruka heard laughter and saw the dog thrashing its tail fervently beside the old man. “Who’s the…?”

He had a knowing glance that Iruka couldn’t discern. “Jiraiya? He’s an author of sorts.”

“What does he write? Poetry?”

“He covers a broad range of genres, but nature has been his main inspiration lately.”

Iruka He certainly knows his way around the plants.”

Jiraiya and the dog strolled to the goji tree. The old man plucked a berry, rolled it in his fingers, then popped it in his mouth. He started piling berries in his hand when Shizune yelled at him from inside the house.

“That’s enough, Jiraiya!”

Iruka and Genma regarded each other, then flipped through the book. Two results of eating goji berries stuck out to Iruka.

Decreased joint pain and improved sex drive in men.

He clapped the book shut.

The desired mushrooms tumbled in their baskets. The two flowers and hawthorn were last on Iruka’s mental list. Genma squatted in the flowerbed by the shrubs and Iruka turned to the winding hawthorn tree. Sprouts of the tree were often used for bonzai, but he had rarely seen one grown out. The book said leaves, berries, and blooms could be used, so he filled the basket without difficulty.

When he finished, he rested at the tree’s base and browsed the book.

Fever, loss of appetite, infection, muscle spasms…

The idea that medicines meant to help people could be turned into poison haunted him. Though Sakura didn’t show it, he was sure it frightened her as well.

Suddenly the hairs on Iruka’s neck stood and he searched the trees. He could have sworn he’d seen something move. He waited, but there was nothing.

“Umino-san?” Sakura came from the house and trudged through the weeds to him.

He stood with his basket. “How’s this?”

She held out her hand for the book which he slapped into her palm.

Sakura nodded, “Perfect. Follow me.”

Genma helped them move the baskets inside Shizune’s house, then returned to his post.

The room was warmly lit. Plants of all kinds were strung up to dry on the ceiling. Drawers and shelves covered the walls. The most interesting thing, above all was that Iruka could spot not one written document or label in the place. Sakura busied herself with the ingredients they’d gathered—laying the blossoms and leaves out to dry, bagging the berries and mushrooms in organized sacks.

Shizune was sunken in the corner, leaning on a table cluttered with tethered bunches of stemmed plants. The ashes in her pipe glowed.

“Thank you for accompanying Sakura. I understand you’re traveling to Enten together.”

Iruka nodded, “I’m going to pay my last respects to Sarutobi Asuma-sama, son of the Daimyo.”

Her eyes had shadows under them. Her breath suddenly shook as she said to him, “You have my deepest condolences for your loss.” Shizune took a deep drag. Her tone seemed out of place to Iruka. She was listless, like the breeze could shatter her. “I’m truly sorry.”

Sakura approached the woman and pet her head. “I’ll be borrowing your book, Shizune.”

“I’m so sorry.” Shizune couldn’t lift her eyes from the floor. “Please, be safe.”

Sakura stowed the book on her person, and finished packing her bag with various sacks of loose ingredients as gently as she could.

The woman tailed them to the door, holding the long pipe tightly. “Bring me news from Enten. And take that old man with you. I’ve had enough of his sticky fingers.”

“Yes, yes. I hear you.” Jiraiya loaded his wooden case holding scrolls and books. He bowed slightly to Sakura. “I’ll follow you to town, if you don’t mind.”

Sakura put her pack on as well, “Not at all. The more the merrier.”

Meanwhile, Iruka found the dog lying at the base of the goji tree. He shuffled through the grass. There was a small bound book by his tail. He picked it up and noticed it had no title.

“You can keep that if you like, Obou-san,” Jiraiya called from the house.

Shizune hissed, “Just hurry up and go, you perv. Leave the monk alone.”

Iruka stuffed it in his kimono and placed a cautious hand on the dog’s back.

“Hey. It’s time to go.” It didn’t respond so he rubbed its fur and called softly. “Hey.”

It nuzzled further into the grass.

Sakura shouted from the house, “Come on, or we’ll leave you behind!”

They both startled. Iruka jerked his hand away and shot to his feet. The stray lurched up, half asleep. Iruka sprinted after Sakura and the dog groggily pursued him.

Shizune called when they reached the trees. “Say hello to Tsunade-sama for me.”

Sakura winced, but waved regardless.

The forest wasn’t as welcoming as it had been during the first leg of their journey. It was getting dark and the nightly chill was setting in.

Iruka suddenly felt worn out. He was confused by the supplier’s behavior. By the brevity of their visit. He wanted to speak to Sakura, but she was trapped in her own thoughts.

Jiraiya struck up conversation with him.

“What brings a monk this far from his temple?”

He gave his rehearsed answer, “I’m paying my respects to a friend who passed away in Enten.” He remembered the book and took it out. “This is yours, Jiraiya-san.”

Jiraiya waved his hands, “No, no, you keep it. It’s a gift.”

The stray observed with interest.

Iruka weakly conceded and returned the book to the folds of his kimono. “If you say so. I’ll read it when I have time.”

That gave a little bounce to the dog’s step as it guided them on the darkening path. Iruka kept track of the flicking silver tail.

The beads on Iruka’s neck clattered. There was something odd about the older man. Now that they walked together, Iruka could focus on it. The air around him was swirling. It was ethereal. Like the Inari.

His chest felt strange, hollow. He put his hand there, feeling for absent his heartbeat.

They reached the rice paddies and the post town came into view. Iruka hardly noticed, however. The scenery faded into the background of his mind, along with whatever words were spoken.

“Are you alright, Obou-san?”

Iruka tried to concentrate, putting one foot in front of another. His legs were turning to wood.

Jiraiya saw Iruka teeter and grabbed him. “Missy, the monk is…”

His throat felt dry. His head dizzy.

“Umino-san?” She drenched a rag and put it to his skin. “Can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her voice dragged in his head as his knees collapsed.

He didn’t remember making it to town, let alone the room. He recognized their voices, muddled as if he were sunk in water.

“What do you think, missy?”

Something hot was being smeared on his chest.

“They were watching the house for sure.”

There was a strange fragrance, incense of some kind. It lulled him.

“Do you think they’ll come for Shizune-chan?”

Shuffling of fabric and paper. “Not so long as I have this.”

“Why not ask Tsunade for help?”

 In the long silence, Iruka began to drift.

“This couldn’t wait. Besides I don’t want to owe her any favors.”

The jovial hoot in response was the last thing Iruka remembered. When he woke again the room was pitch black.

Sakura was sound asleep at his side.

He loosened his kimono and looked at his chest. He removed the leaves and wiped clear the ointment Sakura had administered to reveal the black patch over his heart. It had grown since he last saw it.

It pulsed coldly, heat and life disappearing into it. The seed that had saved him. The last gift his parents gave before the world he knew died.

He covered Sakura with the blanket and left. The hall was dimly lit by small lanterns lining the floor. His footfalls reverberated through his legs and he was gripped with that numbing cold. His head buzzed.

He stepped out to where the lights from the establishments cast a warm glow on the dirt road and wandered into the street. He could feel that swirling again. But this wasn’t warm and benign as it had been with Jiraiya. It was hateful. As if something hungry was lurking nearby.

That sensation jolted him awake. He listened to his own breathing and gripped the beads that had been entrusted to him.

He had felt this shift in his heart before.

On the mountain, on the road—when the mountain witch was near him.

It wasn’t his heart—it hadn’t been then and it wasn’t now. It was the seed.

He took in the street with new eyes. It was late. Most of the post town residents had gone to bed. There was something strange further up the road. A group of samurai stood outside the noble’s inn, all in their formal kamishimo—vests with shoulders that came to a point and long hakama pants, paired swords at their side.

Rising above them was a steady stream of thick smoke. At first Iruka thought it might be from a pipe, but there was too much of it to be natural. It trailed them as they cruised into a high class bar. Somehow, no one had noticed it.

 Iruka followed them, fear sinking in his gut. He went into the bar and sat alone where he could still hear the general raucous of their group.

A haze filled their corner of the bar. His heart was pounding now. The seed was awake and watching, Iruka could feel it. His eyes locked on one of the older men just as he opened his mouth to speak. Smoke dribbled out. The others saw nothing.

Iruka watched from behind the lip of his cup. The smoke wriggled on the ground and encircled a younger man’s feet across the table. Crawling on his legs. Discomfort and an unexplained dread showed on the boy. The older man’s spite was growing—a mix of lust and hate clearly unobserved by the group. He was being overtaken by it.

Iruka’s thoughts churned. He had to help the young man somehow. Could he draw the samurai out? The group had surrendered their katana at the door, but each of them still had a wakizashi. If Iruka accidentally started a fight, he would without a doubt be cut down.

He didn’t understand what he was seeing, but the smoke was spreading in the bar and the atmosphere was shifting with it. The others around the man were being affected. Either adapting to the maliciousness or cowering under it. A wisp of it came close to Iruka and he reached his fingers out to touch it. He felt its warmth on his hand and watched as it coated his fingertips. He felt the flicker of violence and hate it carried, then instantly it was gone. Sucked out of the air and into nothingness.

Iruka jerked back, dropping his cup on the table with a clatter. It was enough to make the possessed man twitch at the sound and slant his head. Their gazes tangled. Iruka put down his hand and looked away.

The smoke detached from its original target and the boy showed obvious relief.

Iruka felt that same relief until the smoke spilled onto the floor and started crawling in his direction.

As it came closer, Iruka fought to keep his face calm. The stream extended out of sight under the table and he felt it creep up his leg. The smoke squirmed over him. The seeping hate and violent desire hiding within it sent a rush of panic through him. Just when he thought he would be consumed by the strong emotions, an emptiness clawed at Iruka’s chest and the seed dragged in the malicious energy.

It was effortlessly pulled into nothingness and the weight vanished. Iruka breathed easily again.

He checked the possessed man and was met with an enraged and distorted face.

Whether he was ready for it or not, Iruka had gotten the spirit’s attention. He quickly rose, leaving payment for his drink with shaking hands. He rushed outside and the man followed with calculated slowness.

The minute he was in the street again, Iruka had no idea what to do. He had no plan. The possessed man stalked him patiently as Iruka walked toward the samurai’s inn. Hysteria was rising in his throat. This was a mistake, he thought. Iruka couldn’t handle this on his own. The smoke spread on the dirt road, threatening to envelop him.

The inn was fast approaching but his mind was too scrambled to grasp a solid strategy. He turned and took a frantic step in the direction of his own inn.

His arm was caught in the man’s grip. It burned feverishly on his skin.

 The samurai’s eyes were clouded, his words slurred. “Good evening, Obou-san.”

Iruka tensed. The spite was thick, overwhelming. His actions suddenly felt extremely reckless.

“G-good evening.”

He hoped there might be a witness close by, but they were the only ones in the street. Not that a normal person would notice anything odd about the two men at a glance.

The man sluggishly slid his hand off Iruka’s wrist. “Would you like to keep me company?”

The urge to go running down the street pulsed through him, but Iruka stayed still. It was his last chance to escape, but he couldn’t let this man return to his company. He couldn’t let this man find another victim. And something in Iruka had to know what would happen. If what the monks said was true, the Onryou could consume spirits and demons. Perhaps he could help this man.

He tried to keep his voice level.

“I’d be… happy to.”

The demonic spirit writhed joyously as the man swept Iruka into the inn. Letting him walk ahead. The owner scanned up for a second before seeing the samurai, then immediately lowered his head without a word. That struck Iruka as a bad sign.

The long walk gave him time to think. His hands twitched at his sides as he tried to recall all he had heard about possessions. Most stories said spirits would occupy a person to feed off the host’s impulses and the resulting suffering of others. If the host became uninhabitable—either through purification or threat of its host’s death—the spirit would be forced to leave. Something like that, right?

He was ushered upstairs. The further they went the more isolated Iruka felt.

Iruka was no monk, so purification was impossible, and he wasn’t about to kill an innocent person. He had no confidence he could, even if he tried.

All he had was the seed. And the hope that the Onryou lived up to its reputation.

The man’s hand slipped around his waist and Iruka was pulled into his grip. A wet mouth latched onto his neck and Iruka’s whole body seized up. The samurai slid open the door they had stopped at. There was a single lamp lit in the corner on the floor. A lone futon was laid out in the center of the room.

Iruka was forced inside. Before he could recover, the man crushed him against the wall. His kimono was aggressively pushed out of the way. Iruka pressed himself into the wall in an effort to evade the invasive touch. The man lowered his head and bit deeply into the exposed skin on Iruka’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

Iruka cried out in pain and shoved the man away.

When he looked back to the samurai, Iruka’s blood chilled.

Dark blue dyed the skin around the man’s eyes and mouth. It was as if his veins had been stained with poison. The smoke pouring out of him was spreading, filling the room with a pungent smell.

The animosity took control and the man lurched in to punch Iruka in the stomach. Iruka doubled over, hitting the floor. The crazed man grabbed Iruka and lugged him by his clothes onto the futon, tearing loose his obi. He held Iruka down into the bed by his throat and started peeling his layers away. Iruka thrashed, scratching at the vice grip choking him as the man hurriedly unknot Iruka’s undergarments with his free hand. Iruka was released when the man finished and lights popped in his vision.

While he was still catching his breath, the man grabbed Iruka’s hips and lifted them onto his lap, Iruka’s legs splayed apart. The man leaned down to drive a tongue between his lips. When Iruka resisted, he was punched in the ribs. Iruka let his mouth release and be invaded, disgust rolling in his stomach. Heat and smoke from the possession dumped down his throat.

Finally the black burr awoke.

No longer a gentle drain, the seed started to aggressively consume the demonic energy.

The man sucked in Iruka’s tongue and bit hard. Iruka’s eyes shot wide. All around them the smoke swirled and writhed, wanting to escape, but the body it possessed was oblivious.

As the man’s clammy hands fondled Iruka’s tanned skin, he kept his eyes open. Hot, damp fingers prodded his backside and he clenched, earning yet another violent pounding. He grunted into the man’s unremitting tongue as it gagged him. He dug his fingernails into the futon.

He imagined the young man from the bar who would have been lying there in his place. He remembered the inn keeper’s shameful expression and thought of the other people the malicious spirit may have sought out and brought into this same room or others like it. While the man crushed Iruka under him, he could see the miasma dissipating. Iruka knew he could end it.

The man and spirit were already weakening. The smoke no longer thrashed, but curled in the air like wispy silk. The samurai’s actions slowed and Iruka easily resisted them, peeling himself away. The man sat up to look at Iruka—exhausted and confused—then horrified. His eyes unfocused and he tumbled off the futon, collapsing unconscious on the floor.

Iruka put a hand on the man’s chest, checking his still beating heart.

He kept it there as the last of the blue smoke moved around them. It was changing. As it came into the air around Iruka it turned pure white, like fine sand glinting in the glow of the lantern. The seed sapped away the last of the spirit’s energy and the room grew still. The samurai’s breathing eased.

In the calm and empty room, all traces of evil were gone. All that remained were Iruka’s panting gasps.

He fell onto his back, adrenaline draining away. Too worn out to stay awake.

He drifted to where his nightmares waited.

 

* * *

 

When Iruka came to, he was curled on his side.

The lantern was out and the air was stale. In the pale glow of morning, the room seemed harmless.

The samurai was long gone. Iruka wondered if the man would remember anything that had transpired while he was possessed. For the sake of his honor as a samurai, Iruka hoped he wouldn’t.

His clothes were in a heap by the door.

He rolled onto his back to discover the futon was soaked with sweat, now cold. Repelled, he sat up. The bruising on his ribs twinged at the unexpected movement and he checked the damage done. His torso was already turning terrible, painful colors.

He noted one mark in particular.

The small briny patch of black was still there on his chest and he silently thanked it.

He didn’t care if it was a part of the Onryou. It had saved him. And it stopped an evil spirit from hurting other people.

As Iruka traced the mark, he pondered whether the seed would have remained dormant at the temple, surrounded by spiritual purity, or if its awakening had been inevitable.

It was naïve to think the priests from the Inari Shrine had really found a way to remove the seed. If that were the case, why hadn’t they come to find Iruka well before the Onryou had appeared? After what Sakura said about the Inari Shrine’s difficulty dealing with the Onryou, he was starting to wonder if they had intended to use him as a scapegoat somehow. To appease the people. Considering that, Enten might not be the safest place for him to go.

Iruka shook his thoughts away. It was too late to second guess now. Enten was his only hope for discovering the truth.

He wiped the hair loose from his neck where it had dried. Despite everything, he felt incredibly light and free of the cold. The gentle tap of rain invited him to open the window and from the second floor he had a clear view of the sleeping town.

Iruka wrapped the unused comforter around him and leaned on the sill, resting his face in the crook of his arm. As the morning air washed in, he breathed heavily and listened to the pattering of raindrops.

When a jolt of discomfort ran up his side, his memories from the night before put themselves in the forefront once more. The orange light, too bright. The shadows of smoke rampant on the wall above his head where he lay.

He buried his face and groaned loudly.

Despite his clear success, it didn’t feel worth it. Not in the slightest.

“Some people really get off to monks. Why is that?”

Iruka leapt out of his skin.

“Though I’m not sure you’re really a monk.”

Perched outside on the edge of the building’s wooden awning was a young boy.

A dark mask covered his mouth and nose. Despite that, the young boy hid himself even further behind a scarf draped about his neck. He clung to it diffidently. Fluttering silver hair framed his face, but the most captivating feature by far was his left eye that glowed a bright and bloody red.

Iruka whispered frantically, “What’re you doing out there!? Get inside!”

He reached to pull the boy in, but his target flinched back.

He scooted away, glowering at Iruka. “No, thank you. I’m just fine out here.”

The boy seemed oddly familiar.

“How did you get up there?”

The imp shrugged.

“Don’t shrug at me. It’s dangerous out there. You should come under the awning, at least.”

The boy only glared.

Iruka sighed, “I won’t grab you.”

Seeing that he had truly given up, the boy inched closer.

He peered past the sill into Iruka’s lap and the man whipped the comforter over himself in a flurry.

The boy’s eyes squinted in a smirk. “Too late to be shy, Obou-san.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the window. He watched Iruka with piercing intensity. “Are you hurt?”

Ashamed, Iruka shrunk under the comforter and rubbed the scar on his nose. “It’s nothing.”

A shadow drifted into the child’s gaze—a quiet anger. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

There it was. He knew that look. The man from the bar their first night in the post town. The resemblance was uncanny.

“I’ll be fine.” He was much more concerned about the brat hanging onto the outside of a second story window and how to return him to his neglectful father. He gave his best teacher smile, “Thank you for asking.”

The boy perked up at that. “You’re a strange monk.” He rested on the window sill, full of awe and contemplation. “You deserve better.”

Iruka couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s for sure.”

The boy stood smoothly. The playfulness in his voice changed and Iruka’s stomach dropped.

“Wanna have a go? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Iruka froze. Perplexed. “What?”

The kid’s eyes slipped to Iruka’s crotch, then flicked back up.

Horror instantly flared in Iruka and he practically yelled, “What!? No!” Iruka babbled meaningless sounds before managing to say, “That’s— What? What are you even doing up here!?” Careful to keep himself covered, he took the comforter in hand and crab walked to his pile of clothes. From under his shielding he fumbled to don his kimono. “Unbelievable! Unacceptable! Who taught you— What kind of parent—”

A thought struck him and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to the boy.

“Where is your father!?” He hissed as he worked to redo his fundoshi undergarments, “He and I are going to have a serious conversation about… exposure…!”

The kid lifted a brow, “Exposure?”

Red faced, Iruka roared, “—To bad influences!!” Finally dressed, he stomped to the window. “Get in here. I’m taking you to your father.”

The child laughed raucously, “My father? What father?” The imp slid easily along the side of the building and out from Iruka’s reach. “You’re wasting your time, Obou-san. Unless you feel like joining me out here.”

Iruka grumbled at the sill and pointed, “Stay right there, I’m coming to get you.”

He grabbed his belongings and left the snickering brat in the window.

Iruka sprinted as quietly as he could down the stairs. Despite his agitated state, the owner seated at the entrance of the hotel didn’t even look up. He pushed his disturbed rage to the side as he raced away from the building to search the second floor. The child was nowhere to be seen.

He was about to storm back up to the room, when a voice stopped him.

“You’re doing much better.”

Jiraiya was walking up the street to him.

Sniffing at the old man’s sleeve was the stray. When Iruka saw it, all the tension in him melted.

The dog tilted its head at him in confusion. It went to him and knocked his hand with its nose.

Iruka hesitated at first, then rubbed the scar over its closed eye. The dog leaned into him as Iruka scratched its ears. Suddenly Iruka felt very tired.

“Hey, you.” He ran his hand through the soft fur and found himself fighting the urge to cry.

The dog watched him, mimicking his furrowed brows. The dog bumped his hand again and Iruka laughed weakly.

“You had us worried last night.”

Iruka nodded, “I’m sorry about that. I’m not sure what happened.”

“It was no trouble, Obou-san.” Jiraiya gestured casually at Iruka’s chest, “That’s an odd tattoo you have.”

Words stuck in his throat. He hoped his clothes were concealing the bruises.

The all-knowing air around the old man was unsettling. He seemed trustworthy, but that odd other-worldly presence was still there. Swirling. He wasn’t a demon or evil spirit like what possessed the samurai, but he certainly wasn’t normal.

Jiraiya chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Obou-san.” He put a hand on Iruka’s shoulder and gave him a wink. “You can tell me the whole story over drinks sometime. I’d be very interested to hear it.”

Iruka’s name was called from afar. There was Sakura, hauling her box and Iruka’s belongings.

When she reached them, she was out of breath, “Where did you go this morning? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Iruka scrambled for an excuse. He gestured vaguely at the sky and said, “I thought some fresh air might be nice.” He quickly relieved her of his staff and hat. “Thank you for your help, sensei. I feel much better.”

Sakura’s suspicion was clear, but she was too groggy to pursue the subject. “Let’s go. We might just reach Enten before nightfall.”

Jiraiya stopped them. “I’m staying behind, missy. I have a few more stops to make. But I’ll see you in the city.”

She frowned and searched his expression, “Jiraiya-san.”

“Why such a face? I’ll be good.” He ruffled her hair. “I’m just looking for an old friend.”

Sakura was reluctant, but the older man wouldn’t be dissuaded.

They checked their things, gathered themselves, and said a final goodbye.

As they parted, Jiraiya called to Sakura, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

With that, they made their way out of the post town.

Iruka was glad to see it go. He may have gained some knowledge about his condition, but he questioned the cost. He worried about what truths Enten held for him and what their price might be.

Rice fields surrounded them before long. The sky had cleared in time for the stark blue and yellow sunrise. Already it was turning out to be a sweltering day.

The dog wagged its tail at Sakura until she fed it some dried fish. Iruka’s stomach grumbled in response. Sakura rolled her eyes and offered the day’s breakfast from their inn owner. They sat on the bank of the farm and ate, Iruka and the dog indulging themselves graciously.

They were making good time. In the distance was the final forest before Enten.

Sakura finished quickly and packed up. “You’ll have to find me after you visit the Daimyo. I’d like to see you again before I leave.”

“O-of course. After I visit.”

Iruka felt a dangerous discussion approaching.

“Do you know where you’ll be staying?”

Iruka handed her his dishes, then stood saying, “Um… well—”

“Oh, that’s right. You’ll be at the shrine.”

“No! No. I… I wouldn’t want to trouble them. I’ll…” He tried to sound nonchalant. “I’ll find an inn or something.”

That puzzled her, “Why not? I know you’re not a monk, but I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. Or are you? I never really asked.”

He tried to steer her away, but he could tell his vague answers were working against him.

“No, I’m not a monk or anything. Bansai-sama just thought… it would be easier for me to travel like this.”

“So you’re impersonating one? That’s interesting.”

Iruka laughed stiffly. “I suppose that’s right. That is a little strange.”

“I don’t know how much you brought with you, but Enten can be expensive. I think you should try to stay at the shrine, monk or not.”

Iruka scrambled to agree, “I-I’ll go there. I just mean… I don’t think I’ll go there right away.”

That was too fishy for Sakura. “Why not? It’d be a waste of money.”

“There’s no rush, like you said.” Iruka attempted to sound flippant, “I’ve still got time.”

It was too late. Sakura’s intuition had been lit. It was as if their interactions from the last few days came flooding back to her. Every awkward answer, every hesitation on Iruka’s part that she had been too distracted to notice was piecing together. He could feel her bright eyes drilling into him.

They walked a few steps without a word between them. Iruka wanted to give her an explanation she might swallow, but he couldn’t find anything that wouldn’t just make the situation worse. The silence forced Sakura’s hand.

“You are a terrible liar, Umino-san.”

Iruka flushed and blustered back, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay. Well. I don’t think you’re lying about paying your respects to Asuma-sama, but I’m clearly missing something.”

Iruka clammed up. Maybe if he stayed quiet about it, she would let it alone.

With a sigh, Sakura leveled her pace with his so she could see his face properly.

“What are you hiding from me?”

“N-nothing.”

Without another word, Sakura jabbed her finger squarely at Iruka’s chest and onto the mark of the seed. Her clear green eyes held no room for further lies.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sakura. He didn’t want to drag anyone into his problems. Especially when he wasn’t sure how deep his troubles went. If he was not mistaken about the seriousness of his ailment, the Inari Shrine would be looking for him before too long.

Sakura relaxed her posture to his surprise.

“Umino-san, I won’t force you to talk. It’s not any of my business. But—” she pointed once more, softly, “— _that_ worries me. I’m worried about you.”

Iruka was losing the will to dodge her. He thought he wanted Sakura to give up, but now he only felt more guilty. She was his ally and his friend. He knew that.

He folded, saying quietly, “I don’t really know where to begin.”

Sakura latched onto the opening. “What is it exactly? The mark.”

He smiled reluctantly at her, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It only showed up recently. I… I started having some strange dreams a few weeks ago. And the monks sensed something inside of me… waking up. They think…”

She jostled his arm when he trailed off. She watched him intently.

He continued, “They think it has something to do with the Onryou.”

Sakura reeled back, laughing sardonically—flabbergasted by the strange jump in topic. “The Onryou? Why?” She returned to Iruka for an explanation, but he was dead serious. Her mirth faded, leaving her baffled. She groped, trying to pull his scattered statements together. “What does that have to do with you?”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t think they care about the details. But…” He took a deep breath. “The dreams started the day Asuma-san died.”

Her expression instantly darkened.

Sakura turned from him, walking tentatively down the path once more.  Iruka caught up, matching her pace, watching her expression as she worked to fathom the significance of his words.

They walked in heavy silence for a while.

Finally she asked, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and gave a halfhearted chuckle. “I’m hoping I can find more answers in Enten.” He quickly added, “I just need to be quiet about it. The Inari priests aren’t too happy about the timing of everything. I don’t know what they’ll do if they find me.” He didn’t feel like going into the specifics. Sakura didn’t really need to know they wanted to cleanse whatever the seed was and inadvertently kill him.

She mulled over that for a moment before saying, “That’s true. We’ll have to be careful.”

“We?”

“Who else is going to watch your back in Enten? It’s a big place.” Sakura let out a long and loud sigh. “I’ll tell you now—any exorcism I conduct won’t end well, but I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

That got a laugh out of him.

He hadn’t realized how reassuring it would be to share his load, even if only a little.

“I’ll be in your debt.” He inclined his head graciously.

Sakura purred at the idea being owed a favor, “Sounds good to me.”

A little lighter on their feet, Sakura and Iruka followed the dog onward.

The rice paddies were coming to an end at the edge of the woods.

Here the road diverged. The high, level path that wove carefully through the trees was intended for carts and more cautious travelers. The other thorny and rigorous path cut down through the hillside—carved out by those wishing to save daylight.

Sakura led them downhill into the brush.

“Umino-san, I have to say. The monk robes are growing on me.”

Iruka burst into a laugh, “Is that so?”

“Honestly, it suits you. All you need to do is shave your head.”

They had shimmied down the hillside. The route was littered with roots and stones—an endless collection of things for Iruka to trip over. They had almost come to a clearing. Eager for a break from the rough terrain, Iruka was entirely focused on not face-planting. When they were almost out, something shifted in the distant trees.

His eyes were instantly drawn.

He saw nothing at first. He thought he had imagined it.

A tingle in his chest egged him on. He slowed to a stop as he left the dense brush.

He scanned the trees, ears perked.

Then something white darted through the foliage, completely silent. Iruka was amazed he had spotted it.

A white rabbit. It stopped, as if feeling his gaze, and sharply turned to look at him.

Its red eyes watched him curiously. Then suddenly its head swiveled toward something and a simultaneous snarl erupted from the stray.

Iruka followed their attention and the world closed back in around him. He half expected another mountain witch.

He felt little relief when Yoroi pushed through the brush instead.

“Afternoon, Sakura-san.” He placed his hand harmlessly on his sword.

The woods felt claustrophobic. The trees swallowed all sound. Iruka suddenly realized what a dangerous position they were in.

Sakura was miles ahead of him.

Sakura smirked, removing her crate and setting it aside. “This is a strange coincidence, Yoroi. What brings you to this isolated neck of the woods?”

“I know you have the book,” he said. “Give it to me and we’ll be on our way.”

Iruka touched the book hiding in the folds of his kimono that Jiraiya had given him in a moment of temporary confusion. The misunderstanding was quickly forgotten when two more men emerged from the trees to join Yoroi.

Iruka’s alarm bells were deafening and his pulse hammered fearfully in his ears.

Sakura knew the other men instantly. She took her wakizashi from her obi and unsheathed it. Iruka wanted to go to her, but he was afraid of making any sudden movements.

One man sporting an injured arm scowled at Sakura. She flipped the scabbard in her hand, ready to utilize it as a weapon if she had to.

“Back for more?”

The stray barked at the rear. Another two men had flanked them. They were surrounded.

“Don’t be stubborn, Sakura-san.” Yoroi gave an innocent shrug, “I’m trying to be nice.”

The gang armed themselves, brandishing more than enough glistening blades to make Iruka’s knees visibly shake. He kept the tip of his staff pointed down in front of him. A mountain witch would be a welcomed alternative, he realized. He’d almost prefer another possessed samurai. Almost.

Yoroi’s passivity was paper thin. He wanted blood. “We just want the book. Things don’t have to get messy. What do you say?”

She kept the scabbard extended ahead of her blade. “I say go fuck yourselves.”

Yoroi took a single step and, without warning, the stray lunged at one of the men behind them.

As he screamed, Sakura dove for Yoroi. She knocked his blade down and launched him into one of his buddies with a heavy shoulder check, separating the trio. Iruka secured the division by rushing up to put his back to Sakura and took a wild swipe at his new opponent.

Yoroi’s partner hacked at Sakura’s head and their blades clashed loudly when she blocked him. She jabbed him in the ribs with her scabbard, earning a grunt from the man. She cast off his blade and thrust at him in return. He just managed to dodge her and a bloody line traced his neck.

With one man thoroughly occupied by the stray, the second flanking man turned his panicked attention on Iruka.

Iruka squared off against his two opponents as they rushed him together.

He gave a quick crack to the head of the one flanking. He then whirled his weapon to smack open the injured man’s defenses and thrust into his chest, pushing him toward the other opponent.

He fumbled with the staff, changing his hand positions and putting as much of its length between him and them as he could—forcing them to make space. He was sure Sakura could hold her own, but a drawn-out fight wasn’t going to end well for him. His staff was already threatening to shimmy free from his trembling hands.

Before he could react, the first man—clearly the more skilled than the other—slid his blade the length of Iruka’s staff and parried it into the ground.

Iruka stumbled and received a sound kick on one of his bruises. He flung the staff up into position just in time as the injured man lunged. Iruka jammed it in the man’s ribs and jabbed his foot awkwardly up, catching his attacker on the side of the head and knocking him to the dirt. Iruka stumbled as he landed, whirling to face his remaining opponent.

Sakura’s blade dug between her enemy’s ribs and stuck there. Yoroi dashed at her and she was forced to abandon it. Sakura grabbed his knife hand and they wrestled for dominance. Yoroi yelped painfully as the stray appeared out of nowhere and dug its teeth into his thigh. Sakura smirked at the dog and socked Yoroi hard in the jaw, ripping the knife from his grip in the process.

Before she could celebrate, Sakura was tackled to the floor by the fifth man, ripped bloody by the dog. She hit the ground, the breath rushing out of her, but she managed to stab the man in the back with her newly acquired weapon. He hardly winced. He took her head and slammed it hard into the ground. White spots flickered in her periphery. She curled to the side, pulled her arms into herself, then bashed his temple with her elbow. That did it. He slumped long enough for Sakura to get out from under him and onto her feet. She tore the knife out to stab the man through the neck just as he started to rise again.

Iruka’s clumsier opponent came in with a hasty overhead slash. He instinctively snapped his wrist to knock the blade and keep the staff firmly in place. He jutted it forward, driving its end with all his strength under the enemy’s chin with a resounding crunch. The man fell, gurgling.

Iruka felt a surge of confidence. When they got out of this, Sakura would owe him a serious explanation. And more than a few drinks. As soon as the thought passed, Sakura’s blade chimed against another and she cried out, catching Iruka’s worried attention.

His final enemy closed in while he was distracted and slipped behind Iruka’s guard to stab at his gut. Iruka dropped the staff to catch the hilt of his attacker’s weapon, but he couldn’t stop it before the blade slid against his ribs—slicing through fabric and flesh alike. Iruka yanked the man into his knee, knocking the wind out of him.

Their weapons clattered against each other in the dirt. Iruka reflexively kicked them away, lest the man recover one of them.

Iruka’s disarmed opponent recovered and danced with his fists up.

Iruka lifted his hands into a defensive position and all his confidence drained. He could whack them with a stick, but Iruka had absolutely no faith in his ability to fight hand to hand.

Blood soaked his side. He fought to control his breathing, and tensed when his opponent sprang close.

Meanwhile, Sakura clutched her freshly cut arm.

Yoroi donned a sword in each hand. “Come on, Sakura-san. We’re not done yet.”

Sakura finished ripping the sleeve off her torn kimono and wrapped the flat of her hand with it. In the other she took her scabbard. The stray crouched beside her at the ready.

Man, woman, and beast circled one another. Sakura shot forward parrying out his first stab with the scabbard. The stray’s jaws were ready to lock onto the knocked hand. She blocked Yoroi’s second sword with her bare arm.

Iruka jabbed with a shaky fist, only to be caught and twisted into a lock. His shoulder was wrenched from its socket and he felt the blood to his head being cut off. Iruka dug into the man and lifted him off his feet. Iruka charged blindly with the man hoisted on his back and they slammed together into a tree.

They rolled apart.

Iruka crumbled into the brush, head swimming.

His enemy fell onto his abandoned sword.

Yoroi’s blade sliced along the bone of Sakura’s forearm, but she stopped the weapon in her wrapped hand. She wrenched it from Yoroi’s grip. Their eyes met as she held it high and stabbed it deeply into where his neck and collar bone met.

Metal grazed into the meat of Iruka’s thigh. An alarmed cry escaped him.

The man knotted Iruka’s hair in his fingers and towed him out of the brush. Iruka dug his nails into the hand, and he was clocked with the end of the blade’s hilt.

“Enough!” The man shoved Iruka’s face into the ground. “Say a prayer, Obou-san.”

“Iruka!”

Yoroi’s body slowly dropped to Sakura’s feet.

She skidded in the dirt, seeking the traction to run toward Iruka.

The stray was already dashing. Its figure rippled.

The blade came for Iruka’s throat.

Silver flashed.

The assailant’s sword slid from his hand and hit the dirt beside Iruka’s face.

Iruka stared up to a bloody knife protruding from the base of the man’s neck. The body fell forward and revealed the fluttering blue fabric of a loose kimono. A seething red eye lingered on the fallen corpse. Loose strands of silver came to rest over a scar that carved through the man’s eyebrow, down to the cheek.

The stranger winked that eye closed and breathed out his anger. Beautiful and terrifying rage.

He cast his concern on Iruka.

At the sight of Iruka, his hand tightened on a bloodied white tanto—the lightest colored metal Iruka had ever seen.

Sakura landed next to Iruka, tying a strip of ripped fabric around his thigh to stop the bleeding. She looked between Iruka’s wounds and the stranger, utterly amazed.

Iruka struggled to understand what he’d seen. The man let out an amused huff at Iruka’s dumbfounded expression.

Sakura checked his injured shoulder, feeling around it. “I have to put it back in.”

The stranger knelt beside Iruka. “I didn’t know you were one of those warrior monks, Obou-san.” He put a hand on Iruka’s forehead, encouraging him to rest into the ground, and brushed the hair out of his face. “You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

“Take a deep breath, Iruka.”

He did so and as soon as he started to exhale, Sakura slid the ball back into his shoulder’s socket with a pop. His racing thoughts were blown apart. Releasing into that sigh, the exhaustion he had ignored took over and his consciousness slipped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for the kudos! Sorry for the long time between updates. But let's be honest, these chapters are fucking massive. I'm on [tumblr](https://iamnotanut.tumblr.com/) if you wanna hang out!  
> Finally our boy Kakashi makes his flashy entrance. Let's see what shenanigans these fellas can get up to! ;)


	3. Killer Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is just one rule:  
> Pay homage to the queen, or  
> Mama will wreck you.

Iruka bounced with the even footfalls of who carried him.

Soft hair tickled his nose.

The first thing he saw as his eyes dazedly opened were the tips of feathers etched in ink. They curled out from under a kimono’s smoothed collar. The light was dim, lulling him to fall deeper. The stranger’s low timbre buzzed in Iruka’s chest.

“He’s awake, sensei.”

Sakura zipped over, saying, “Put him down.”

Reality descended upon him at the sound of her voice and Iruka tried not to be too sour about it.

The stranger bent to the ground and Iruka staggered off. With a jolt of pain, he remembered his injured leg.  The stranger quickly caught him and helped him sit. Still groggy, Iruka brushed the helping hands off him.

As he settled, Iruka said, “I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”

Sakura grabbed his chin and pulled Iruka’s face close, dragging him from his half slumber. “I’m the doctor here. I’ll decide when you’re fine.” She yanked down his kimono, baring his chest and shoulders. “And what are these bruises everywhere!? They were not here when I checked on you last night and I know they’re not from those goons. Except maybe this one!” She poked violently into his chest where he had been kicked.

As though someone had wrenched open the door to a darkened room, Iruka was suddenly completely and totally awake. “Ow! I’m sorry!” He moved to rub the tender spot but realized his arm was out of his sleeve and restricted by a makeshift sling. His shoulder ached.

Sakura’s forearm was bandaged as well. He could tell it was causing her a lot of pain. Every move of her fingers was strained.

Despite the evening light, the rainbow of colors on Iruka’s torso was very present. Sakura glared at him before undoing the dressing on his rib. He couldn’t help turning red when his company noted the bite mark on his collar bone left by the crazed samurai.

She threw Iruka’s kimono away from his legs. She would have flashed his fundoshi had he not caught the fabric first. Uncaring, she unwrapped Iruka’s leg. The bleeding had stopped. She had stitched the cut shut and overlapped it with thin petals, the very same he had collected the day before. She delicately peeled them off and used new ones to pull the edges of the gash together as she applied them.

Iruka let himself appraise the stranger as she toiled away. He was just as Iruka remembered from the bar in the post town. He stood tall and stoic in a pale blue kimono that almost floated on his slender figure. His pale arms were crossed casually over his chest. He was masked now and had his pale silver hair tied up in a sloppy bundle. The tanto he had wielded in Iruka’s defense was nowhere to be seen and the red eye was shut.

Iruka bumbled as he ogled the man, “Thank you for your help. If you hadn’t shown up, I probably would have been—” The opened eye watched Iruka intently, almost mockingly. Iruka couldn’t help but drift from one eye to the other, wondering if he had imagined the red eye all together. “Well, you know that, I guess. Your timing was really—”

Sakura layered a paste on his wound that stung and he hissed in a breath through his teeth. She wrapped the whole mess in new gauze and flopped his kimono to its original position.

Iruka fumbled back to the topic. “I mean, I didn’t even see where you came from… What about y-your son. Did you leave him in the post town?”

“Son?” The stranger gave into his smirk. “What son?”

Something about that look was familiar. Iruka may have thought the stranger to be reproachful at first, but there was humor bubbling within. And the scar. Iruka knew that scar.

“I didn’t think I’d make it in time. You’re lucky I did.”

Lucky didn’t cover it. It had been impossible. Where had the man come from anyway? Iruka played those final moments before he lost consciousness over again, squinting at the stranger.

He had seen it himself. Sakura and the stray were the only living things close enough to save him. He remembered them both dashing toward him. The stray overtook Sakura before she even got her feet under her, intent on him. Iruka saw the creature’s sealed eye open with seething, red fury. Then—

Iruka shook his head in disbelief.

“No… No, you can’t be— That’s not possible.”

Iruka’s dumbfounded expression was filling him with delight.

The crook of the man’s eye crinkled, “What’s not?”

Iruka could feel the blood draining from his face. Iruka gestured at the man with his good hand, glancing at Sakura. She gave him a withered nod of confirmation.

“The dog? He’s the dog?”

The stranger’s brows lifted smugly.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Really?” He openly laughed at him. “Well then again, you were gullible enough to get tricked by a spider witch. I shouldn’t be that surprised.”

Iruka’s jaw dropped. The words slipped out before he could catch them.

“What… are you?”

The man’s enthusiasm cooled and he mimicked insult.

“That’s a little rude. You’d think asking someone’s name would come first.”

Iruka’s voice croaked in his throat, but no coherent question formed.

“It’s Kakashi.” He answered instantly, mirth resurfacing.

Iruka repeated the name to himself, then returned, “I’m—”

“—Iruka, I know.” His eyes trailed over Iruka as he added tersely, “You’re quite a handful.”

Iruka bristled. He was about fed up with the patronizing. Then the dots connected. The ever growing collection of embarrassing moments his raggedy companion had been privy to came to the forefront and his face flushed up to his ears. He sulked into his seated position, speechless.

Sakura finished and sat up from Iruka when her assessment was complete. “The flesh wounds should heal just fine if you take it easy. It’s these bruises and cracked ribs I’m worried about! I’ll have to treat them in Enten.” She pointed at the sling. “And you are not to use this arm, do you understand?”

It took Iruka a moment to change attention from Kakashi enough to respond.

“Yes.” Iruka bowed his head to her. “Thank you, again. I’m sorry to have caused you trouble.”

Sakura held onto her lingering irritation for only a moment before yielding, “Don’t apologize. It’s… mostly my fault. I had a feeling they would come after us. I just didn’t think there would be so many this time.”

Iruka had noticeable concerns. “Will there be more?”

Sakura’s gaze dropped to the dirt without an answer which did little to alleviate his fears.

Kakashi knelt with his back to Iruka and prepared to carry him. Iruka hesitated before timidly wrapping his good arm around the man’s neck. Man, demon—whatever he was. Iruka tried not to be self-conscious as Kakashi’s hand gently cradled his upper thigh to avoid further injuring his leg.

He draped onto the stranger’s lithe figure like a ragdoll. It made him a little less insecure when the stranger stood and carried Iruka’s weight with ease despite his size. Rather than be rapt by the man’s natural strength, however, Iruka mentally credited it to supernatural ability. Of course a demon could carry a fail human male without much effort.

As they walked on, it was Iruka’s turn to question Sakura. While his interest in their transformed companion was eating a hole in him, the threat of another life or death situation seemed more pressing.

“Why did Yoroi want the book anyway? I thought he was after your herbs.”

Sakura’s reply was surprisingly simple.

“The herbs are essentially useless without it. Especially the imported plants. You saw Shizune’s place. She works mostly from memory. All the records and notes she has are kept in this book. Without it, they’d be stuck guessing and experimenting until they got their results.”

“What did they want?” He rephrased, “Poison, I suppose. But what for?”

Sakura sagged a little and kept her focus on her feet. “Use it. Sell it. What does it matter?” Sakura produced the book in question from her kimono and flipped through it. “What if you want to someone to die from what looks like natural causes? Have their heart give out, deprive them of fluids, make them vulnerable to infection, or unable to eat.” For a moment, Sakura drifted into a kind of admiration for Shizune’s work. One intellectual to another. However, the clear misuse of the book’s potential tinted her words with bitterness and frustration. “That kind of result takes precision and in-depth knowledge of the herb’s effects. You can’t imagine the discipline—the years of practice and testing it takes to reach that point.”

A recollection cast its shadow across her and she rested her hand on the open page.

“It’s harder to kill someone with poison than you might think,” she said faintly. “If you have the wrong ingredients or the wrong combination, the victim could linger on for months before their body would eventually give out.”

A knot wound itself tighter and tighter in Iruka’s gut as the conversation ground to a halt.

Sakura slowly shut the book, closing off that line of thought.

“I would burn it if I could,” her saddened smile returned, “but this is her life’s work.” She hid the book once more, regaining strength. “Once I know she’s safe and all this is over, I’ll return it.”

Iruka hesitated even to say it. “Then there will be other people looking for it?”

Sakura walked on in silence, intentionally concealing her face. Iruka sighed, the tension breaking within him. He reached with his good arm to tug at her bag.

Sakura glanced back, full of shame.

“I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He consoled her, “It’s alright, Sakura. We’ll be okay. We just have to find a safe place for this book, right?” He gave her a wink, “No problem.”

Sakura laughed weakly and rubbed beneath her eye.

He stretched to pet her head.

He said again, kindly, “We’ll be alright.”

Sakura blushed lightly—suddenly aware of how vulnerable she felt—and pointed along the path. “I think we’re close. I’ll… walk ahead to check.”

She trotted off before Iruka could say anything more.

“She’s lucky to have a father like you.”

Iruka had momentarily forgotten he was being carried by a living person.

Iruka clambered to correct him, “I’m—She’s—Do I look that old?”

“Relax, Obou-san. You’ll hurt yourself,” Kakashi chuckled, satisfied by the man’s reaction.

Iruka continued, calmer this time, “I am not anyone’s father.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” The stranger hummed. The vibration went through Iruka. “You’d be good at it.”

Unsure of the man’s intention, Iruka sank down and resisted the impulse to counter with another fumbling response.

He watched her retreating silhouette and rambled quietly, “She’s my student… or she used to be. They feel like your kids after a while.” He quickly clarified, “It’s not as hard as real parenting—I know it isn’t, but it… it feels similar.”

Kakashi simply smiled, “Is that so?”

Iruka fell into silence.

He couldn’t remember saying that to anyone out loud before. It would have felt silly to say something like that to Bansai, who had practically raised him, but somewhere in his heart he had always thought that way. It felt a little late to be saying such a thing now, to a perfect stranger.

Iruka blamed it on fatigue. For a moment, he let the warm and comfortable back of this assumed demon to melt away his pain.

Then the stillness reminded him, “I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me.”

Kakashi peeked over his shoulder and corrected him.

“Twice.”

Iruka winced. “T-twice.” He was still rewriting memories of his shaggy companion with this man in mind. “I don’t understand why you’ve gone so far to help me, but I appreciate it.”

Kakashi moved his head to watch Iruka and said slyly, “The way you run headlong into trouble is hard to ignore.”

That ignited another deep blush. Iruka opened and closed his mouth without refuting him. The man wasn’t wrong, after all. Even in the best light, imagining Kakashi’s first impression of him was humiliating.

They walked until the dirt path merged into the cart road. Iruka didn’t realize how close they were to the city until the wooden walls rose high above them. The gate was immense. Atop the wall, lanterns were being lit to cast their glow over the warm wood.

Sakura was returning and ushered them to pick up the pace.

“They’ll be shutting the gate soon. Get your papers out.”

Iruka went suspiciously quiet.

Sakura knew better than to ignore his hesitation. She stopped in her tracks, and Kakashi almost crashed into her.

Her green eyes bore into him. “Umino-san. The temple gave you travel papers, right?”

He scrambled to think of an excuse, but he knew nothing could save him.

“Well…” Iruka grumbled. “No.”

The woman was stunned to silence while Kakashi burst out laughing. Iruka would have swatted his head if he had a hand to spare.

Sakura was not as amused. “Umino-san. Where is your travel permit?”

 He sniggered nervously, “I… don’t have one? The monks didn’t exactly know I was leaving…”

“What do you mean you—What!? Umino-san!—”

She was about to unleash her wrath when a low bell rang from the gate.

She couldn’t be distracted now. Papers or no papers. “We have to get inside.” She grabbed the front of Kakashi’s kimono and pulled him forward.

The checkpoint was fast approaching and a handful of armed officials were there waiting. Their numbers had Sakura shaking with nerves.

Sakura stopped them again. Her hand pressed into Kakashi’s chest.

She stared straight ahead, watching the guards, as the idea came to her. “Change into a dog.”

“What?”

She faced Kakashi with an unrelenting scowl. “Turn. Into. A dog.”

“Why should I?” The stranger scoffed.

Her head twitched, eyes glinting. “Do you have a permit?”

Kakashi lifted an impish brow.

“That’s what I thought.” She motioned at the checkpoint, “There’s no way I’ll get two grown men in without papers. Especially you.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gestured to all of him, groping for words.

He was insulted now, “What?”

“Shady! You look shady.” She hissed, “Hurry up!”

“It’s not a parlor trick.” Kakashi huffed. “Besides, they’ve probably already seen us. What will they think if one of us just disappears?”

She snagged the edge of his kimono and jerked him close. “Turn into a fucking dog.”

He groaned audibly and let Iruka down.

Like light on water, there was a glimmer. His clothes shifted on him like smoke. When the ethereal veil reformed, a pint sized Kakashi pouted before them. He pulled the scarf that had manifested around his neck over his already masked chin.

Iruka’s ears burned with rage as the pieces fell into place. He was genuinely glad there hadn’t been an actual child hanging off the sill of the hotel balcony earlier that day. All the same, he could barely contain the urge to strangle the fake urchin.

His childish pipes rang with annoyance. “Happy?”

The anger vanished in an instant and Iruka choked on a snicker, earning him a vexed frown from the small boy.

“Yes. Now. Try to look like you’re in pain, Umino-san. And stay quiet! I’ll handle this.”

That wouldn’t be too hard. Sakura gave Iruka his staff and he staggered behind her.

“Hey! Help us! Someone’s been hurt,” she called to the guard as she ran ahead.

The boy held Iruka’s good arm and moved consciously to avoid hitting his injured leg. He labored under Iruka’s weight.

“Please!” Kakashi cried pitifully, “Help Obou-san!”

Iruka narrowed his eyes at the adorable, deceitful little scamp. He couldn’t believe he had ever fallen for it.

They came into the light of the checkpoint in time to hear Sakura’s explanation.

“Obou-san is on his pilgrimage to the shrine and he agreed to escort me. But we were attacked. They stole our money and his permit.” She produced her merchant’s permit from her kimono in perfect damsel-in-distress form. “I managed to keep mine.”

They scanned between Sakura and Iruka. Then down to Kakashi.

“And the boy?”

Iruka mechanically put his arm around him. “He is… my… pupil.”

A vein throbbed on Sakura’s forehead at his sad contribution.

Now suspicious, one of the guards reached for her pack. “We’ll have to inspect your inventory.”

“No, don’t—”

She grappled with him as he attempted to pull the pack off her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“—Wait!”

“It’s policy—”

Sakura reluctantly pushed another document on him.

“That isn’t necessary.”

The official grabbed it roughly and unfolded the papers. The second official joined in and they both went pale as they reviewed it.

He pointed at the paper carefully, as if he were afraid to touch it, “This seal is…?”

Sakura grimaced. “From Tsunade-sama. I’m one of her employees. This monk was injured protecting Tsunade-sama’s merchandise.”

The guards took a moment to confer before stamping Sakura’s permit and ushering them inside the city limits.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, ma’am.”

One helpfully called after them, “Would you like an escort to Tsunade-sama? There’s been some trouble lately—”

“Thank you very much, but there’s no need!”

They passed into the shadow of the great gates as they creaked shut behind them.

Sakura led them in the dim streets. Iruka was limping badly and Kakashi had to fight to keep him steady.

Iruka couldn’t help but glance around fearfully. “I wonder what they meant by trouble. Maybe we should have let them take us—”

“I’m sure it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, we’re not going to Tsunade.”

The boy grumbled between them, doing his best, “This body is useless.” His clothes shifted as he prepared to transform.

“Not yet,” Sakura whispered. She kept her quick pace. “They may still be watching.”

His lingering concerns aside, Iruka cheered their small victory. “That went well, didn’t it? I thought for sure they’d stop us.”

“Getting you in isn’t the issue.” As they walked deeper and deeper into the city, Sakura’s mood was darkening. “You really think they’ll let someone walk out of this city undocumented?”

“Why not…?”

“What would you think if someone tried to leave your city without having any record of who they are, what they were doing here, or where they’re headed?”

Iruka made an effort to not look stumped.

Sakura smiled patiently at his ignorance. “Most likely, they’ve been up to no good and they’re running from something.”

“Oh… Right.”

“Don’t worry, Umino-san. I’ll figure something out.”

The buildings were packed tightly onto one another. They towered above and blocked out whatever moonlight escaped the overcast night.

Sakura led them into a part of the city Iruka had never been to himself, but instantly recognized from what stories had ventured to the mountain.

They came out of the row of dark structures and were greeted by hundreds of paper lanterns crisscrossed between buildings. Their red hue cast a provocative spell, spilling out and making the air itself glow. A great red torii gate entreated the outside world to come in—to join the drink and festivities within.

They stepped onto a glossy cobblestone road that paved the way into Enten’s famous pleasure quarter, a city in and of itself.

Even at first glance, Iruka knew the floating world was capable of all it promised. It unfolded for men and women who sought satisfaction in any form. Night and dreams could meld together. Music and enticing smells wafted out. Breathing it in ignited temptation in every passerby. All were nameless, classless, and free to indulge.

Iruka was awestruck by the illusionary scene.

The child snickered at Iruka’s naïveté, but his intrigue was just too genuine to be wounded. Reflected in Iruka, it was an ephemeral work of art.

The view didn’t last. Sakura quickly steered them into an obscured alley.

Slatted fences lined the gaps between buildings. Light from within cast striped shadows on the trio as they wove through the hidden maze. Song and conversation prattled mutedly at a distance. They snuck past the carnival and eventually came upon a man-made stream. Over the wall was a modest building. The outer windows were already dark. Sakura confirmed there were no witnesses in the alley, then stepped into the water and lifted a section of slats. The secret door gave them just enough room to slip inside.

The small Kakashi took Iruka’s hand and guided him through the creek. Sakura closed the gate and showed them to a ladder secured flatly to the side of the building, concealed by budding blue ivy. Sakura removed her shoes and scaled it with familiar ease. She opened the window at the top, slightly at first to check the interior. With impressive dexterity, Sakura hoisted the massive trunk on her back with one arm. Iruka was positive it wouldn’t fit, but she slipped it into the window handily as if she had done it a thousand times before.

 Then she crawled in and out of sight. Her pink hair popped out a moment later and she beckoned Iruka.

Iruka shed his mud caked geta. It was difficult to climb with one arm, but not impossible.

The hustle and bustle of the street echoed weakly around the buildings. He couldn’t see much aside from the hint of beautifully painted paper umbrellas shielding flirtatious laughter. Why they were sneaking around in the pleasure quarter in the first place was far beyond Iruka’s understanding. A few weeks ago, the possibility would have sounded ludicrous.

He made it over halfway when he tweaked his injured leg. His good foot slipped, but he was pinned from behind before he truly fell.

A deep voice came close to his ear, “Be careful, Obou-san.”

Adult-size Kakashi pressed Iruka into the rungs of the ladder. The man gave Iruka a sturdy arm to hold while he regained his footing. Iruka muttered a sheepish thank you. That was another impossible thing Iruka still hadn’t had time to process.

Iruka made it up the last stretch without further difficulty and clamored inside.

The room was pitch black. Iruka wisely sat out of the way before he could injure himself, hoping Sakura would find some kind of light. Kakashi strode in without caution and knocked into something, toppling it with a loud thump. Sakura immediately smacked him on the head and they listened in silence for someone coming to investigate.

When no one did, Sakura let out a breath of relief. She slid the room’s door open just a crack to let the amber light pour in from the hall.

From what little Iruka could see, they were surrounded by stacks of crates of every size holding various delicate goods. Glass and porcelain trinkets, vases and other ornamental items all meant for fall and winter décor. Stacks of thick fabrics were gathered near the door and there was a collection of heavy winter duvets in the corner.

Kakashi spoke to her in a raspy whisper.

“Where are we?”

“My bedroom.” She shuffled through what Iruka assumed was a set of drawers at the wall. “Well, it’s supposed to be, but I’m never here.” She found what she had been digging for and threw it at Iruka. “Hold these.”

It was a bundle of wide banded wraps. Iruka cringed.

Kakashi wandered and hit his head on some plants hanging from the ceiling to dry. Their leaves rained down.

Sakura’s head snapped to him. He put up his hands, “Sorry.”

She produced three teacups, but no pot. “Ugh, damn it.” She gave up searching and grabbed a few things from her pack. She thrust some shriveled roots into Iruka’s hands. “Chew on these for a while, Umino-san.”

Iruka did so and scrunched his nose at the bitter taste. She stripped the top half of his kimono to scrutinize his chest wound and shoulder. Then she employed Kakashi’s help to tightly wrap his torso with one band of fabric. With the second one they strapped his arm and shoulder into place. He could scarcely move. It was meant to prevent swelling overnight, but that knowledge didn’t make it any more comfortable.

When she was content with her handiwork, Sakura slipped out the door and into the hallway. “I’ll get us some things from downstairs. Do not step outside this room.” She pointed harshly between them and enunciated, “Do. Not.”

She closed them in and they listened to her tip-toe down a set of stairs. The minute they could no longer hear her, Kakashi went for the door.

Iruka grabbed the tail of his kimono. “Wait! She just said—”

He was smirking beneath the mask. Kakashi took hold of Iruka’s hand and helped him stand. “Come on. We’ll be quiet.”

He slowly slid open the door, spreading the warm light across the floor and casting their shadows on the window behind them. The tatami mat of their room ended at perfectly polished wooden floors. Every surface was spotlessly. Across the way, the door was gaping, inviting them to explore. They could see that the opposing wall of the room was open and had a railing overlooking the lower level.

Iruka lingered as Kakashi stepped into the hall.

Kakashi stuck his head into that room and lowered to the floor. He snuck to the railing and took a peek, then beckoned Iruka over, beaming.

He tentatively obeyed. The gleam coming from below drew him in.

Over the railing was a stunning enclosed garden. It held a promenade of blooming bushes and flower beds. A path wound through it alongside the same creek they had waded in earlier, twisting and turning among sapling trees and shrubs. Golden lanterns illuminated a bridge that led to a modest gazebo with room for two.

Iruka had never seen such splendor. The babbling water and sound of crickets almost made Iruka forget he was neck deep in the pleasure quarter of Enten.

The two sat close together, taking it in. He checked on Kakashi, who was observing the garden with nostalgia. He fit in naturally with the atmosphere. It was as if the stranger had found a piece of home in spectacle.

Kakashi propped an elbow on the railing, gazing out. “Welcome to Enten, Obou-san.”

They gawked at the scene together, absorbed in their own thoughts.

Whatever the stranger was, Iruka couldn’t help but think how painfully human he seemed now. Surrounded by the splendor, glowing with the warm light, this man was aching with forgotten sentimentality.

Iruka realized he was reaching for the man and stopped himself. The impulse startled him.

Kakashi met his watchful eye.

“What do you think?”

Iruka hid his hand, hoping the man hadn’t noticed.

He couldn’t help but smile at Kakashi’s enthusiasm, “It’s incredible.”

The patter of excited feet and giggling brought Iruka right back.

From their spot, they could see the entrance to the building burst open. A group of young women were returning.

Before he could get a good look at them, Kakashi towed him to the hall and they dashed into Sakura’s room, silently shutting the door.

They listened in the dark.

Sure enough, footsteps chased through the hall and past their door. Giggling all the way.

Before they could share a moment of relief, the door slid open with force and Sakura flung herself inside. She promptly tripped over the two men. Kakashi stifled a grunt as he was struck with some hefty object Sakura was carrying. They collapsed in a clump and Kakashi quickly shut them in with his foot. Iruka was about to say something when Sakura stopped him with a panicked touch.

Another set of footsteps sauntered by.

The white of Sakura’s eyes widened in the dark.

The person paused by their room. Then walked to the door across the hall and closed it.

The girls’ lively chirps came from somewhere within.

The woman outside shook the walls with her voice, “Hurry up and go to bed! Don’t make me tell you again!”

Sakura was pale with fear, but the person walked on. Their footsteps faded.

When there was finally peace, the trio untangled themselves and Sakura showed them her spoils with an elated grin. She toted the object she had whacked Kakashi with—a cast iron kettle sloshing with water. Somehow she had managed not to spill it in the chaos. She also had a container of charcoal, and a set of long metal chopsticks.

Sakura laid it all out saying, “We’ll have to find a different place to stay tomorrow, but we may as well enjoy ourselves tonight.”

From somewhere in the room, she unburied a ceramic hearth and slid it to their corner. Iruka helped her light it and they fostered the embers until the room was illuminated with its kindling. Iruka adjusted the coals with the metal chopsticks.

Iruka didn’t want to disparage Sakura’s hospitality by asking, but he felt he had no choice.

“Haruno-sensei… What are we doing here?”

As the hearth came to life, her conflicted expression was illuminated. She sat the pot on the hearth to heat the water.

“I wasn’t sure where else we’d be safe.” She groused quietly, pulling her knees close to her chest. “I’m sorry, Umino-san. After what happened with Yoroi, I’m sure there will be people looking for me.”

“Why not ask your boss for help?”

“I told you. She doesn’t believe me.” Sakura shook her head bitterly. “It’s not just that… she and I haven’t been on good terms for a while now. I don’t know what she’ll think if she finds out what I’ve been up to. And you do not want to get on her bad side.”

Iruka sought to comfort her, “I’m sure it’s not so bad. What’s the worst she could do?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be pleasant.” She waited for Iruka to laugh. When he didn’t, she realized he was missing the joke. “Tsunade is a god of fortune. She could curse me with never-ending bad luck if she wanted.” She reflected briefly, and amended, “From the state of things lately, maybe I’m already cursed.”

“Your boss is… a god?”

Sakura nodded slowly and leapt into a contemptuous spinning of Tsunade’s tale. “Oh, yes. Those who follow her prosper. Always wealthy, always happy.” She gestured broadly, “The pleasure quarter is her kingdom. Merchants, artisans, criminals. It doesn’t matter to her. Everyone is equal and everyone is welcome—” Sakura grimaced, “—so long as you play by her rules. If you don’t, she can make your life in Enten hell on earth. She has enough connections that—on a whim—she could destroy your career, your reputation, everything. She could bury you.” Sakura saw his uncertainty. “I suppose that kind of gossip wouldn’t make it to Kurama-dera.”

He ardently shook his head. He had heard that other beings like the land god existed, but to have someone confirm it was a little alarming. And to hear of them misusing their gifts in such a way was beyond concerning.

Sakura folded fully on her knees, muttering, “If I were smart, I’d go along with it.”

Kakashi interjected, “Why don’t you?”

Iruka had been so absorbed, he hadn’t noticed Kakashi’s reaction to the conversation. He was alight with recognition.

He knew this woman Tsunade, whoever she was.

Sakura thought it over before stating plainly, “I can’t rely on someone else’s strength forever. There’s no worth in success if I don’t attain it myself.”

Kakashi crossed his arms with a pleased smile. “Well said.”

She grinned proudly. “We’ll see how things pan out. Though at the moment, I could use a little good fortune.”

Kakashi laughed with her and Sakura’s confidence seemed to return.

She quietly reached for Iruka, touching his injured shoulder and glancing over his other injuries. “It’s my fault you’re like this, Umino-san.” She placed a hand on his knee. “I want to help you. I will help you. I’ve been thinking about who we can speak to about the Onryou. I have someone in mind, if I can just find him—”

“Don’t worry about me. I trust you.” Iruka pat her hand, a teacher once more. “Please, trust me too. Let me help however I can.”

She sat apart but their hands stayed connected. His faith in her brought out a solemnness. It stopped her speech and kept her from meeting his eye.

Finally she said sadly, “Thank you, Umino-san.”

His instinct was to ask what was really wrong. It was hard not to notice she was hiding something else from him, but it seemed too sensitive a topic to breach. Sakura had already given him a lot to think about.

Sparing them the silence, Iruka’s stomach growled loudly.

Sakura sprang to life, “Oh! I have food!”

Sakura slung the sack from her shoulder and opened it. Kakashi shook with suppressed laughter as Iruka clutched his treacherous stomach.

Iruka glowered at the man, red faced.

Kakashi was a bundle of mysteries all on his own. His intellect was far beyond what Iruka would expect from a simple demon. It was apparent he had spent some time in Enten and was at least familiar with the “god of fortune”. Iruka wanted nothing more than to interrogate him. For now, he would pack away the scraps of information he could in hopes of sating his ravenous curiosity.

Out from Sakura’s bag came deep-fried tofu stuffed with rice and three steamed sweet potatoes. She left the divvying of food to Kakashi while she selected the ingredients for tea. The pot had simmered almost to a boil amid their conversation.

Kakashi sat aside his share of hot food and served Iruka. He could tell Sakura was hiding something more as well and observed her closely, as an animal would a potential threat.

Then she produced a box from her pack and his mood instantly changed. He scooted to her side without hesitation. It was a smoke box with a pair of pipes. Sakura handed one to Kakashi and let him skim through the herbs and varieties of tobacco she had available.

Iruka made himself useful and grabbed duvets for each of them from the corner. He sat them nearby for his companions, then made himself cozy.             

Somewhere in the house, a shamisen and koto duet rang out. The shamisen’s sharp notes cut through the walls while the smooth koto blended strings of scales together. The hidden trio expected aggressive protest from the female caretaker as the melodies traded back and forth but to their delight there was none.

She poured Iruka a cup. “Drink it slowly or you won’t be able to sleep,” she said. He knew from the smell that it was some kind of ginseng. “It’ll help you heal.”

Iruka went slack under the down blanket and had a few sips. It was warming up in their little haven so Kakashi cracked the window to let the evening breeze in. He leaned on the sill to look out and pulled down his mask to take the first drag of his pipe. Iruka could only just see smooth line of his jaw and the curve of his lip in the dark.

The smoke released smelled too sweet to be tobacco. The streams of it drifted throughout the room along with its subtle aroma.

Sakura took gulping bites of the still steaming potato and Iruka worked on one of the fried pouches of tofu. When they saw the other stuffing their faces, the two snickered together quietly.

Secrets or no, Iruka couldn’t turn from a friend in need.

In the corner of this packed little room, lit only by the embers of their hearth, three strange companions enjoyed one another’s quiet company.

 

* * *

 

The open window invited in the morning chill.

Iruka was the first awake, still in his position against the wall.

His dream of the past lingered with him. The heat of the fire still stung his skin. He had almost forgotten with all the excitement what was waiting for him when he closed his eyes at night.

He distracted himself by surveying the interior of their room now that it was finally lit well enough to do so.

The ceiling was covered in hanging plants. Behind the crates one wall was stacked with unused furniture and larger decorations. The more accessible wall sported drawers and shelves like those in Shizune’s house. There were a few labeled bins, but Iruka could tell from where he sat that the labels were warnings but they did not explicitly identify the contents. That was probably Sakura’s way to keep people from using them without her supervision. The shelves that didn’t hold her medicines were crammed with extra vases. The last corner was filled with boxes containing pottery of varying shapes and sizes, swaddled and stored safely.

Something stirred on his leg and Iruka realized he wasn’t alone.

A moppy head of silver rested in his lap.

Kakashi must have toppled over from the window in his sleep. He was scrunched up at Iruka’s side, fighting the cold. Iruka drew Kakashi’s abandoned comforter over him and pat it down tenderly. The mask was gone, forgotten in the night, and the tie containing Kakashi’s hair had come loose and was now tangled there.

He decided to remove the thin cord from the knotted mess and got busy. The mask didn’t seem necessary to Iruka. If the man really wanted to avoid recognition, he would have better luck staining his hair to a more acceptable color.

Finally the knot came free. He coiled the cord to put away, but—before he could—it dissolved into thin air.

Stunned—he studied his now empty hand, then Kakashi.

Iruka slumped into the wall. This little trip was taking years off his life.

Iruka took a lock of the man’s hair in his fingers and twirled it. He wasn’t even sure the person sleeping on him was real, or if he too would vanish in a wisp of smoke.

Iruka couldn’t spot any lingering wrinkles on the man’s face, though he had already grown accustomed to the subtle crow’s feet that emerged when Kakashi smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of hollowness in his skin, only the clean definition of his cheekbones. Overall, he was frustratingly ageless.

The scar over Kakashi’s eye was an old wound. The line cut through his eyebrow, split the edge of his eyelid, and ended in the middle of his cheek. A thin, yet deep crease. Iruka was amazed his eye had been saved.

Then he saw it. A small black beauty mark below the corner of Kakashi’s mouth. It went so strongly against Iruka’s image of the man that he almost laughed. He moved to touch it, but stopped himself.

Instead he combed through Kakashi’s light hair, releasing the tangles. When he finished he curled it behind Kakashi’s ear. Parts of his stubborn bangs were sticking up and Iruka weighed them down with his hand but had no success in controlling them.

Kakashi burrowed closer and Iruka fought the urge to chuckle lest it wake him.

In the face of all reason, Iruka knew this was the stray he met in the forest. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

Sakura curled close to the hearth, pulling his attention. The embers had long since died. The woman was entombed by her duvet with only her tousled pink hair flaring out.

He wasn’t sure of Sakura’s plan, but it was probably time to get going. He could to hear more movement in the building. If they didn’t leave soon, they might be discovered.

He took the end of the silver hair and brushed it over Kakashi’s nose. He kept tickling until Kakashi’s brows furrowed. He paused and waited for Kakashi to relax before beginning again.

Kakashi blinked awake and took a moment to remember where he was. Then he saw the broadly grinning Iruka above him and gave a grumpy squint.

“Good morning,” Iruka said cheerfully.

Kakashi resisted it at first, but the corner of his lip turned up. “Good morning.”

Without warning, the door was thrown open.

Into the doorway stepped a woman in a sophisticated lavender kimono with an arm full of vases. Her pale blond hair was obscured almost half of her face. She was already halfway in before she noticed the two men huddled in the corner. Iruka instantly put up his good hand in surrender, but Kakashi didn’t bother to react.

A vase dropped and shattered, jolting Sakura awake. At the sight of the sleepy woman, the blond went from pale shock to blazing rage.

Sakura rubbed her face and scanned the room until she landed on the woman in the doorway.

“Ino…?”

The blond started to bolt, but Sakura grabbed her legs and yanked her into the room. They crashed onto the floor and wrestled, vases bounced and cracked on the floor. Iruka was startled to see the mask had returned on Kakashi’s face somehow. The man slowly sat up from Iruka’s lap and they watched, wondering if they should intervene.

Ino tried to call for help, but Sakura held her mouth shut. “Wait, Ino! I can explain!” She pointed at the door. “Close it!”

Iruka quickly complied, avoiding the shattered vases.

Ino ripped Sakura’s hand off, “What are you doing bringing men in here!? If Anko finds you, they’re dead. We’re all dead!”

Iruka and Kakashi glanced at each other. Iruka had assumed they weren’t welcome, but Sakura had failed to mention death as a potential consequence for their unauthorized visit.

“We were just staying for the night, I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you go to a hotel!? Or the teahouse!?”       

Sakura tightly shut her lips.

Ino broke free and scorned Sakura. “You’re still avoiding Tsunade-sama, aren’t you?”

Sakura ignored her and pleaded, “Come on, Ino. Look the other way. Haven’t I done the same for you?”

They paused, at an impasse. Then Ino wagged an angry finger in Sakura’s face.

“You owe me.”

 There were footsteps on the stairs.

Sakura made a show of her distress and Ino groaned.

“You two, hide!”

The women leapt into action. Sakura frantically cleared their picnic while Ino shoved Iruka and Kakashi into the far corner. The men’s flurry of limbs tangled as they were buried under the duvets. Kakashi posed himself above to keep his weight off Iruka’s injured body.

Iruka held his breath as the door opened.

“What’s all this noise, Ino—Sakura!?”

Iruka instantly recognized the voice of the scary caretaker.

“Good morning, Anko-san… I’m back!”

The woman growled, “Don’t give me that, _‘I’m back’_. Where have you been!? What are you doing sneaking around my Okiya?”

An Okiya? Iruka and Kakashi went rigid. A geisha house. They were in a geisha house, filled with young apprentices and strictly guarded secrets. Even on Mt. Kurama Iruka knew men were not only unwelcome, but strictly forbidden from entering an Okiya. Punishment for trespassing would be at the discretion of whosoever ran the place. They could be killed on the spot and no one would bat an eye.

“I live here, though you wouldn’t know it from the state of this room.”

“We haven’t seen you in months! You’re place here has been forfeited, as far as I’m concerned.”

They heard rustling fabric.

“Let go!”

“You’re going straight to the teahouse.” The woman oozed with devilish glee, “Tsunade will be so happy to see you! Ino, get her things. I’ll meet you at the front.”

They listened to Sakura’s struggle fade down the stairs.

When the women were gone, light feet pattered over to the pile and Ino tore off the covers.

Ino helped Iruka stand and fetched his staff. “You have to get out of here before the rest of the house wakes up.”

“Why help us?”

Ino rolled her eyes. “You’re not the first man to sneak in.” Ino drew her bangs behind an ear and clacked her teeth in anger. She addressed Sakura’s pack as if it was her representative. “Though I was never stupid enough to bring in two at once!!”

She wrenched up the massive crate by its straps but it didn’t budge. She elected to drag it to the door instead, which took all her strength.

“If you go now, you might make it. I’ll draw their attention.”

She disappeared out the door with the massive pack skidding on its wooden feet behind her. Iruka feared for the beautiful floor.

Kakashi opened the window cautiously. He and Kakashi peered at the garden to find it still empty.

They dropped Iruka’s staff in the grass, then waited. No one came.

As Iruka swung a leg over the sill, there was a terrifying crash that sounded oddly like Sakura’s pack taking a destructive tumble down the stairs.

They heard Sakura scream, “INO!! What did you DO!?”

The two men scurried down the ladder and grabbed their belongings. They darted to creek and splashed toward the secret gate.

Iruka was about to celebrate their escape when Kakashi grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into a sprint down the alley. He struggled to keep up, his leg throbbing. He glanced to see a woman armed to the teeth coming around the corner. She spotted them instantly and gave chase. She called out for the other guards as she did and two more burst into the alley.

They were almost to the end of the corner when the wound on Iruka’s thigh split open and he let out a cry. Kakashi came to a halt and his loose hair swept around his shoulders. He steadied Iruka, then squared himself between them and the oncoming women. He opened his hand and light smoke drew together out of nothing. The white tanto came into being as he closed his hand around it.

Kakashi was locked on them, red eye wide and ready.

Iruka grabbed Kakashi and pleaded. “Stop! That’ll only make it worse.” The hostility turned on Iruka for an instant and he felt a chill. Still Iruka did not give in, “Kakashi. Stop.”

The unsettling malice in his eye dissipated and he let Iruka push down his weapon.

The guards caught up as Kakashi stowed the blade.

They took Iruka’s staff and patted Kakashi’s sides but could find no weapon. Iruka imagined it had likely pulled a similar trick as Kakashi’s hair tie.

Kakashi’s wrists were bound, but he was indifferent to it. Iruka was sure Kakashi could break free of them any time he wanted. The guards noted Iruka’s incapacitated arm and left him untethered. Iruka felt Kakashi’s stare and he guiltily shrugged at the blatant difference in treatment. With a sigh, Kakashi resigned himself to captivity.

“If you resist, we’ll kill you.”

Kakashi smiled playfully, “You can try.”

Iruka elbowed him. “Settle down. We’ll be fine.”

They were escorted through the alley and to a guarded gate that emptied onto the bustling street. They heard Sakura’s enraged cries and spotted her at the front of the Okiya. She was being hoisted off the ground by a muscular woman. She kicked her legs at Ino and who they assumed to be Anko.

One of the women knocked Iruka from behind when he lagged. He took a heavy step on his injured leg and staggered. Kakashi supported him as best he could and cast his deadly red glare at the guard.

When they reached the gathering crowd, they were turned over to Anko. She wouldn’t have been so intimidating in her casual kimono if it weren’t for the violent looking ornaments used to pin up her pitch black hair.  They were more like trophies of war than accessories. Their metal tails clicked together at the snap of her head. The open maliciousness in her smile wasn’t very reassuring either.

Sakura saw the two men and fresh fury washed over. She kicked ferociously at Ino, her kimono flapping wildly.

Sadistic joy bubbled in Anko. “Not one, but two men. Tsunade is going to throw a fit.” The murderous intent rolled lovingly to Sakura, “I think this is the end of the road for you, even if you are her favorite.”

They marched in the middle of the street. The procession was swarmed by gossip mongers. Occupants of the restaurants and shops all watched as they passed.

In daylight, the spell of the pleasure quarter was broken. By all appearances it was no different than any other city street. All the glamor and flare had been packed away. Peddlers and humble pedestrians were all that populated the road now.

The group came to where a large block of land in the middle of the district had been raised. They trudged up wide stone steps. Unlit stone towers distinguished their path. When they reached the top, the largest building in the quarter revealed itself.

It was not a teahouse. Not by any standard definition.

Framed by two perfectly sculpted trees, the building stood four stories tall with a sweeping roof. Unlike any of the surrounding buildings, the wood was not painted. It would be of a modest design, if not for its sheer size. The top three floors had balconies that wrapped around. Each level was protected by the layers of dark teal roofing. The right side of the building’s first floor was blocked from view by the walls of an enclosed garden with the hint of flowering trees rising out of it. This garden wrapped around the right and back of the teahouse while the left of the building butted up to a gated storehouse where deliveries of food from nearby restaurants were bring received.

On the floors above, Iruka could see a handful of women spying them with interest, partially hidden by the railings and wood paneled doors meant to bar the elements.

The group walked up to the entrance, pushing through the long noren curtains.

What awaited them captivated Iruka instantly.

The center of the building was open up to the ceiling. The stairs cut the corner from one floor to the next at an angle, creating a great angular spiral up. The structural beams wove diagonally across and throughout like a basket. The wood was painted a piercing red, in stark contrast to the simple exterior. The main floor to the right was clear all the way to the garden, interrupted only by the dark vertical support beams. The sleek wooden floor reflected the morning light.

There in the distance sat two women. One on her knees, head lowered. The other on a thin cushion with her legs hanging off the edge of the floor. She surveyed the garden and took a drag from her pipe.

Her red ocher obi was folded over to make a square shape and decorated with small repeating symbols on a wave-like nami pattern. The fabric of her long sleeved kimono was a gentle yellow. Her hair, nearly the same color, was drawn tightly into a formal arrangement with two carved prongs protruding from it.

Standing in the garden before the women was a fearful, dirt-dusted man clutching a very young girl.

His voice echoed faintly in the overwhelming openness.

“She’s a good girl, she’ll work hard.”

Tsunade spoke through a cloud of smoke as she scanned a document her assistant provided.

“Then why don’t you keep her?”

The man fidgeted, gripping the child’s shoulders and making her wince. The filth on his nails made them almost black.

“We can’t feed her.”

“We’re not in a famine, last I checked.” The woman refused to look at him. She clacked her pipe on the edge of her smoke box, freeing the ash.

Anko brought Iruka’s group closer but kept to the outskirts of the meeting.

“My wife takes expensive medicine. We can barely afford to stay in our home.”

The woman paused. “I see. Is she unhealthy? Is she unable to work?”

He sputtered, “N-no, no. She works.”

Patiently Tsunade packed a fresh pipe and lit it. “And you? Do you work?”

The man turned a dark shade of red. Sweat glistened on his grimy forehead.

“There are plenty of jobs available, if you’re willing to make the effort.” She took a drag. “If you think your daughter is worth it.”

“Tsunade-sama, the girl will serve you well.” The man lifted the girl’s face by her chin. “She’s a fine girl, see? She takes after her mother. Her-… her mother was beautiful in her youth, absolutely beautiful.”

“Yes, and I hear she’s wasting away these days. Working herself to the bone.”

“She is, she is.”

“Such a shame. All for her medicine, you say?” Tsunade sat down the paper and turned more fully to inspect the father and daughter. “That’s interesting. From what I’ve heard, it isn’t your wife that’s sick.” The woman grew disturbingly cold. “It’s you.”

There was a second where the man didn’t understand what she had said. Then he started shaking, clenching his fingers into the girl’s shoulders.

“And it’s not medicine you take, is it?”

He pivoted, dragging the small girl as he attempted to leave.

She thumbed through something in her sleeve and called out, “How old is the girl?”

He stopped dead. Then he stammered, “F-five—”

Without a hint of hesitation, the woman threw something at him. Five ryo glinted in the morning light and scattered in the grass at his feet.

“This should compensate you for bearing the burden of a child for so long. I’ll take the girl off your hands. We will arrange housing for her and your wife.”

“M-my wife?”

“Your wife works for me now.” The assistant offered a brush, freshly inked. Tsunade took it and lifted her sleeve as she wrote on the man’s paper. The assistant provided a book of records for Tsunade to make a note in as well. “If you contact her for money again, I will know about it.”

She then produced a silver seal from a hanko case. She moved without any sense urgency, as if to purposefully infuriate the impatient man whose fate now rested in her hands. She dabbed the seal in a dish of red ink and stamped the paper. She wiped it clean on a cloth and stowed it. When she finished, the younger woman bowed her head and withdrew with the materials.

Referring to the money, “That should be more than enough for you to drown your sorrows.”

The ritual seemed to steal the man’s voice from him.

The assistant stepped down from the wooden floor and onto a stone step. She extended the paper to the man, and her hand to the child. The girl, budding with tears, took the offered hand and tottered to the assistant’s side.

The man snatched the paper and dropped to his knees. Wild with twisted delight, he dug in the grass to collect his prize. Without a single backward glance to his child, he skittered out of sight.

The little girl clutched the young woman’s hand.

Tsunade addressed her in dominating voice. “We’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll be shown your work. This will be your home until a more suitable place is found for you.” The child’s eyes grew wide, but Tsunade’s tone changed to something smooth and reassuring. “And for your mother, of course. You’ll be together again once she’s recovered.”

The little girl’s face went bright red as tears plopped from her big eyes. The assistant hoisted her up onto the wooden floor and she was lead to a private room.

Tsunade prepped her pipe once more as she addressed the spectators without turning.

“Come in, Anko.”

Anko brought them close and the guards forced them to their knees. Their faces were pushed into the floor in a prostrating bow. When Kakashi resisted, the guard pressed his head into the wood with her foot. Anko opened her mouth to relay the charges, but was cut off.

“I’ve already heard everything.” Tsunade put the tobacco over the coal within an incense burner until it lit. “So has half the quarter.” In one smooth phrase, she gave her chilling reproof. “I’m not sure why you thought it necessary to make such a spectacle, considering it was your negligence that brought about this situation in the first place.”

Silence hung in the air.

“I’m sorry, Tsunade.” Anko fumbled for words, “If I had found them myself, I would have—”

“—Killed them on sight, I know how you are.”

For the first time, Tsunade’s cryptic gaze dissected them. In the middle of her forehead was a violet diamond shaped tattoo. Iruka stared at the mark in disbelief. Was the owner of this prestigious teahouse—the god of fortune—a former criminal? She gave off too regal an air for that, he thought, but the mark was unmistakable.

He thought Tsunade had a flicker of recognition at Kakashi, but her pinpoint focus fell on Iruka instead. She took in his robes as if she had never seen a monk before.

Her painted lips formed a perfectly polite smile. “It’s fortunate that you didn’t.”

“Tsunade, you don’t plan to let them go, do you—?”

“Leave us, Anko. You’ve done your part in this. To excess, even.”

Anko stepped forward, “You can’t show this kind of favoritism, Tsunade. They cannot go unpunished.”

“Untie them,” she ordered, absently pulling a drag.

The guards hesitated for only a second before quickly undoing Sakura and Kakashi’s wrists. Anko was fuming.

They sat upright. Kakashi rubbed blood back into his hands and Sakura checked her injured forearm. Beaded sweat on her forehead displayed the pain she wanted to conceal. When her gaze met Tsunade’s, Sakura hotly glanced away.

Tsunade’s controlled expression slipped and there was a wily twist in her smile. She curbed the display immediately. Considering how everyone else’s eyes were downcast out of fearful respect, Iruka doubted many would have caught the moment.

Tsunade glided to Anko.

“I understand your pride has been wounded, but do you really think Sakura would sneak two men into the Okiya to hurt our girls?” She took another drag. “We shouldn’t make mountains out of molehills.”

“This is a great offence, regardless of her intent! Tsunade—”

The woman’s aura became intense. Iruka’s hair stood on end as if the room had been charged with static. His heart lumped heavily against his ribs. “You are dismissed, Anko. Take your people and go. There’s been too much ruckus for so early in the day.”

Anko, utterly defeated, escorted herself and her guards out.

Without them, the room felt immense.

She stated her emotionless inquisition. “A little bird at the gate told me a merchant of mine passed through last night. When no one came to see me right away, I should have known it was you.”

Iruka was preparing for the worst when Tsunade’s well-mannered mask vanished in an instant. Her face split into a wide smile.

She held her pipe in her teeth as she said, “It’s been a while, Sakura. You look terrible.” She sat, tucking her kimono under her folded legs, and pat the ground. “Come sit by me.”

Sakura grumbled.

She slapped the ground again. “Don’t fuss. Get over here.”

Sakura grudgingly stood and took her place beside Tsunade.

The woman welcomed her, then cringed. “Ugh, you need a bath. You are absolutely filthy.” She touched all over the woman, checking her, tugging on her clothes. “What is this supposed to be? What happened to the kimono I gave you?”

“Merchants don’t wear silk.”

Iruka was floored by her abrupt familiarity. They were mother and daughter, fretting and bickering. All trace of Tsunade’s intimidating power had disappeared.

She swept at Sakura’s shoulder and dust lifted off. “You’re my merchant. You can wear whatever you want.” She scrutinized the bandage on Sakura’s forearm. Sakura tore it out of reach before Tsunade could touch it.

Tension flared at the rejection. Tsunade’s fingers lingered in the air, outstretched for Sakura’s wound.

“Don’t touch me.”

The seconds ticked by without clear reprieve, but then Tsunade retracted.

She pouted playfully, as if the exchange had never happened. “You’re a complete mess, Sakura. This is what you get for playing in the woods too long.”

Sakura scowled without a hint humor, “Yoroi did this.”

She scoffed in return, “Shizune’s guard? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He tried to kill me. And the monk.”

Iruka cut in reflexively. “It’s true!” He bowed deeply, “Excuse me.”

Iruka had the god of fortune’s renewed attention. He could feel her staring.

Tsunade hummed, “Is that so.” She took note of Iruka’s clothes. “What temple are you from, Obou-san?”

He answered calmly, “Kurama-dera.”

She wasn’t convinced.  “That’s pretty far, isn’t it? What brings a monk from Kurama-dera to Enten?”

Iruka was so nervous he nearly bit his tongue. “I-I’m on my pilgrimage to the Inari Shrine and I’ve come to pay my respects to the Daimyo’s son.” His stuttering lessened when he told the simple truth, “I’ve known Haruno-sensei for many years. When I ran into her, we decided to travel together.”

She considered this as she burned through her tobacco in a heavy inhale. “Fine, I’ll bite.” She twirled her fingers, insisting, “Explain.”

Iruka looked up, doubtful that she was speaking to him, but Tsunade’s piercing eyes were waiting. He raced to answer her, terrified of what another moment of hesitation would do.

“I was with Haruno-sensei when she met her supplier,” he said. “We were on the road to Enten when a group of men attacked us. They were led by one of the guards we met—Yoroi. There’s no mistake.” He strained to read Sakura’s reaction. He wasn’t sure what he should omit. “They… They were after…”

Sakura was more than ready to take over. “Yoroi had been stealing from Shizune ever since you assigned him. He was being paid to. But they need a book containing Shizune’s research. With it, even a layman could make an effective poison—”

At that word, Tsunade rolled her eyes. “Not this again. Is this why you deserted us? To pursue your baseless conspiracy?”

Sakura shrank beside the woman, a soldier chastened by her commander.

Her voice, however, stayed strong, “It’s not baseless and you know it. When they thought I had the book, they came after me.”

“Where’s the book now, then? Hmm?”

Tsunade sat apart, gauging Sakura’s expression. Sakura only shrugged.

She stared at the ground, as if trying to puzzle it out herself. “Shizune hid it somewhere. They assumed she gave it to me after I saw her. I just hope she put it somewhere safe.”

Iruka was shocked by the lie. He was glad he hadn’t said anything more.

Sakura continued, her true intension showing itself, “Yoroi was working under someone else before you hired him, wasn’t he?”

Tsunade knew instantly that this was Sakura’s goal and a thin veil drew over her. There was a subtle pause as Tsunade lounged in her seat, tapping her pipe on the tray again. She had all the air of a deity facing a conversation that displeased her, one with the fate of the world sitting securely in her lap.

She dodged with a smirk. “I assume you killed Yoroi, so what does it matter now anyway?” She wagged her hand nonchalantly, “I’ll send some new people to Shizune. Let it go.”

“It won’t matter if we don’t find out who’s behind it.”

Tsunade laughed, “They already found the culprit, Sakura. The man confessed—”

“—in a suicide note that anyone could have written. He was set up. Anyone with half a brain knows that.” She persisted, begging, “I’ve been tracking these people for weeks. We know the herbs they used for the poison were rare—foreign. As soon as I started investigating Shizune, they tried to get rid of me. I never expected it would be someone so close to us, but that means that we might find a connection. Something that will lead us to the people responsible—”

Iruka felt it. An ethereal air had awoken. An oppressive wave of energy rolled off Tsunade. It filled the room, pressing in on them. It made Iruka’s head spin, but he held on as best he could.

Was this the power of a god?

Sakura rose against it and smacked her hand on the wood. “Yoroi was guilty, but I know someone is still pulling the strings. Please, help me find them.” The woman Iruka had seen in the post town reared her head. Whatever habituated submission had inhibited her before thawed into unyielding resolve. “They’re going to do it again. I can’t just stand by! Whoever Yoroi worked for could be involved!”

Tsunade’s icy tone cut through. “Be careful, Sakura.”

The ripples of Tsunade’s anger stirred instinctual fear. Iruka found himself gripping his knee, trying to keep steady.

Sitting beside the terrifying woman, at the center of the torrent, Sakura held firm. “I don’t care what happens to me, I won’t be complicit in this.”

Tsunade had run out of patience. Her eyes were stony as she leaned in.

“Asuma was a fool.”

His name hit Iruka like freezing water.

Tsunade’s words dragged, like a dull knife twisting in his ear.

“That’s what got him killed.”

The world sank into a fog. Their voices rang in his ears.

“Keep your head down, Sakura.” She added with biting callus, “Don’t make the same mistake he did.”

Iruka reeled.

His suspicious wound together, suffocating him. He wanted to scream. To go back kill Yoroi himself. He fought an eruption of emotion as he remembered Shizune’s apology for what he had yet to understand.

Truly sorry, she had said. Crippled by her guilt. She told him she was truly sorry and now he knew she had meant it.

Even so, he hunted for another answer. A different truth.

He lifted his sunken head to Sakura.

She was waiting for him with a face flushed with regret.

Tsunade’s cold mask was uncompromising. “I’ve had enough of this. You’re in no place to be making demands of me. I should imprison you for helping these men trespass. As for them,” Tsunade said, standing. “After all the fuss, some public punishment would be best, don’t you think?”

She turned on her socked feet and went to Iruka and Kakashi. Up close, Iruka noticed the detailed figures repeating on her obi. A frog, slug, snake, and rabbit. Swimming in the red waves of the pattern. Their simple shapes taunted him. They danced on the peaks without a care while his own thoughts drowned him. His ignorance was a bitter taste he couldn’t purge.

She took hold of Iruka’s chin as she appraised him, though he couldn’t feel it. “I can’t flog the monk, I suppose, but I’m sure Anko would be satisfied if I removed an ear or two.” Iruka didn’t have the energy to fight her as she turned his head. Then she stopped to take in Kakashi’s severe gaze. “You’re being awfully quiet. Don’t you have anything to say?”

Kakashi, who had been taking in the scene in silence, was radiating with hostility.

“What’s there to say? You haven’t changed, Tsunade.” His diction was biting. “Full of empty threats, like always. Especially when you’re about to ask a favor.”

She reflected his malevolence with mocking, “That’s ‘Tsuande-sama’ to you, mutt. Or have you been an animal so long you’ve forgotten your manners?”

Thunder rumbled and drove Iruka from his thoughts. The sunlight in the garden was blotted out by shadow. Between Tsunade and Kakashi, he could feel a current growing. The ferocity of Tsunade’s presence was being blown aside.

“I didn’t think wandering gods kept company.” She glared down her nose, her painted lips curling.

Iruka’s skin prickled. The wind changed and the silky swirling around Tsunade was sucked in, like the pull of a storm with Kakashi at its center. The burr in Iruka’s chest throbbed as the clouds outside thickened. Darkness descended over the teahouse.

Iruka shared his reaction with a slack-jawed Sakura.

Kakashi’s eye crinkled in its usual way with all the appearances of civility.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

The mortals in the room felt themselves diminish.

“That depends entirely on you and your motives for being back in my city.”

“Back?” There was a flash of uncertainty, but he pressed on with unremitting intensity. “As far as you’re concerned, I’m a tourist.”

Thunder rumbled and tension stretched thinly between them.

She sneered, “Why should I believe you?”

Tsunade was wavering, her accusations held less mettle.

Kakashi could sense this. He was almost joking now, “What can I say? It was lonely on my own. You can’t blame me for getting bored and making a few friends.”

His flippancy matched Tsunade’s image of the man much more soundly and it curbed her bite. Still, she glowered at the clouded sky.

“One raincloud after another.” As if on cue, the thunder grumbled. She shot a blaming glare at Kakashi, “First the Onryou, now you. It’s bad for business.”

Kakashi it deflected effortlessly, confident in how the tide had turned.

“You’ve lost your touch if a little bad weather is all it takes to shut you down.”

Tsunade diffused into a chortle and the force around her lightened along with it.

Kakashi followed her lead and leaned away. The electricity of his presence dissipated.

Iruka released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Remembering their original conversation, Tsunade stepped over to Sakura and knelt before her. She extended a hand naturally toward the woman’s cheek, but then hesitated, expecting another harsh reaction. When Sakura didn’t flinch, Tsunade rested her hand there. She thumbed across Sakura’s cheekbone fondly as if wiping a spot of dirt.

“Sakura. I just want you to be safe.”

Sakura pressed her fists into her legs. “Then help me.”

Tsunade sighed, “You’re so stubborn.” She released her and laid out Sakura’s sentence. “You will not leave the teahouse without an escort. If I hear any more about this conspiracy of yours, I really will lock you up, do you understand?” Before Iruka could catch up, Tsunade was addressing him. “You’re far from home, little monk. I’ll forgive you for not knowing any better. However, there is something you can do for me as compensation.” Her tone was almost playful.

Kakashi had simmered down as well. “Here it comes.” He threw a thumb in Tsunade’s direction as he said to Iruka, “I told you so.”

Tsunade ignored Kakashi and continued on. The sky cleared and the sun poured into the teahouse through streams of light.

“It just so happens I’m in need of monk. There’s some kind of demon roaming around my teahouse and I need you to find it. Those from Kurama-dera specialize in exorcisms, don’t they?”

“Excorcisms? I—”

As Iruka made a motion to elaborate on his position at the temple, Sakura blanched behind Tsunade and rapidly shook her head. He swallowed hard. Refusing seemed like the wrong answer. As did coming clean about his identity.

“I’d be… happy to assist in whatever way I can,” he said. “But why not ask someone from the Inari Shrine to help?” His neck heated up as Sakura glared daggers at him.

Tsunade gave a hearty laugh, “Hell will freeze over before one of those pricks darkens my doorstep. Besides, this matter requires some discretion. I can trust you, can’t I, Obou-san?”

Iruka bowed to hide his panicked expression, “Of course, Tsunade-sama.”

“Good! We’ll discuss more after dinner.” She planted her hands on her hips. “My, my, what an eventful morning we’ve all had. Ino!” The woman emerged on command. As did Tsunade’s assistant, who had a stack of papers at the ready. Tsunade addressed Ino, then her captive audience with a new burst of energy. “Find a room for our guests.”

The room came to life. Sakura shot to her feet grabbed Iruka and Kakashi, dragging them to meet Ino.

Tsunade called, stopping them, “This is a house of business. So be sure to behave. If you cause me any more trouble, I’ll let Anko have her way with you.” Just as Sakura started parroting her boss under her breath, Tsunade gave a final command. “Once you get them settled I’ll be expecting you, Sakura.”

The woman hid her grimace.She and Ino led the way from one staircase to the next until they reached the top floor, butting heads all the way.

Sakura’s words were drenched in sarcasm, “Thank you so much, Ino, for your help. You honestly couldn’t have done a better job—”

“Don’t blame this on me—”

“You broke all of my shit! For what!? For NOTHING!”

Ino kept her poise as they zipped around corners.

“It’s not my fault they got caught. I made sure they were clear to go.”

Sakura was ready to tear her head off. “By destroying my livelihood!!”

Kakashi and Iruka trailed, hardly getting a chance to take in the floors they flew past. The second and third floors, of what he could see, were all large party rooms separated by paper screen doors. A few curious heads poked out. Some greeted Sakura and Ino as if their argument were a routine occurrence. Iruka stammered, wanting to break in and deescalate things if he could.

“Your stuff is fine, only a few glasses broke.”

She roared, “A few—! A few!? The whole thing split in half!!”

Ino hissed, “Keep your voice down.”

Iruka interjected with a hushed appeal, “It’s not her fault—”

They joined together to say, “Don’t defend her, Obou-san,” “Stay out of this, Umino-san,” before tearing into one another with new vigor until they scaled the last stairs. The fourth floor was exclusively comprised of private rooms. Inlets allowed light from outside to pass through. Most of the rooms were unoccupied and their wooden panels were open.

Ino stopped outside a corner room. “I’m sure Tsunade-sama will return your things once you’ve made your rounds.”

Sakura wasn’t happy with that at all.

Ino was ready to rail on her more, but then the fire suddenly went out.

Ino continued with her gaze dropped, “Everyone’s excited to see you. I don’t understand why you hate being here so much.”

Outrage swelled in Sakura’s chest, “I love the kids. And the girls—you know that. I’d do anything for them, but I won’t be bullied into obedience.”

With a mix of reverence and indignation Ino said, “There you go again.” She opened the door to let them in. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so fussy.”

Sakura prepared a rebuttal, but refrained. Despite the impression their morning had given him, Iruka could tell how deeply Sakura cared for Ino, and this place.

Their room had two walls. Tatami mats unfolded to the opposing side where only a pillar at the building’s corner and short railings barred them from freefall. Above them were the rafters of the roof, making the room feel massive. Woven reed curtains were rolled and tied above the windows out of sight. The morning sun was still blocked so the room had a blue glow about it. In the corner sat a metal brazier, much larger than Sakura’s ceramic hearth.

Kakashi walked in, surveying. He leaned out over the railing, then met Iruka’s observing gaze. He beckoned with the jerk of his head and Iruka’s heart jumped. He wavered a moment, but was disarmed by Kakashi’s casual smile and trotted over.

The horizon was packed with life. All of Enten expanded before them. The rooftops below created an endless maze leading to the mountain. The morning fog was thick at its base where the Daimyo’s estate would be. Past that Iruka knew the stairs to the Inari Shrine were somewhere winding up the mountainside, buried in the trees.

Ino spoke to them, “Someone will come to check on you in a little while. If there’s anything you need, just ask. You are our guests.”

Sakura led her to the door, conceding, “I’ll be right down.”

Ino gave a brief bow before going.

Sakura slid the door shut and sank to the ground. She collapsed into the wall.

Finally in privacy, she let herself be weak. She held her head in her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Umino-san.” Shame washed over her. “I should have told you about Asuma-sama before. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

In the last flurry he had almost forgotten—No. He had wished to forget.

Iruka leaned on the railing, bracing himself.

“What happened to him?”

Sakura laid her head back until it bumped the wall. She deliberated on where to begin. Then finally it came out. The words burned her. “He was being poisoned for months. They thought it was an illness at first, but the symptoms were irregular. It kept getting worse until eventually it killed him. The truth came out after he passed. Conveniently, someone from their estate confessed to the crime in a letter and slit their own throat before anyone could question them.” She glared at the thought. “The other nobility decided to keep it quiet to prevent a panic in the city. As if they could sweep it under the rug.”

She remembered herself and turned to Iruka. She put her hands on the floor and bowed deeply. Holding there, she said, “You deserved better. I’m so sorry.”

Her prostration tugged at his heart. “No, don’t. Please, Haruno-sensei.” Iruka rubbed the scar on his nose. “Please, don’t worry about that. I understand why you didn’t tell me. I was just surprised.”

“I should have told you everything…” The young woman sat up straight. The guilt was quickly being transformed into anger at their predicament. “And now we’re stuck here. I knew this would happen if I came to Tsunade. She thinks because she’s a god, she knows what’s best. The sooner we deal with her request, the sooner we can leave. I don’t know what you can do or what she wants from you, Umino-san, but you have to go along with it for now. And if you can’t, you can just run. I’ll deal with the consequences.”

Iruka stopped her. “I’m not going to leave you. I said I’d help you and I meant it.”

Sakura searched him for any trace of resentment or falsehood.

He gave a lopsided smile. Comforting her was easier than facing the feelings that had resurfaced. Regardless, he couldn’t blame her. Sakura had been trying to protect them both from the inevitable pain the truth would bring. He should be used to that sentiment by now.

“We’ll get by somehow.”

“Tricking her won’t be easy, but who knows,” Kakashi scanned Iruka slyly, “Obou-san is capable of some pretty interesting things.”

Kakashi held plenty enough mocking to earn a deadly glare from Iruka. Any impulse to tear up was blown right out.

Through his teeth he said, “I’ll do my best.”

The pair made Sakura laugh and she got to her feet.

With their new plan buzzing in their thoughts, the trio gathered at the balcony and took in Tsunade’s domain.

The streets below were filled with merchants and artisans. There were families, parents and their children, strolling along as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

When Iruka squinted, he could see where the pleasure quarter ended. Outside the bubble, the world seemed to dull. The roads were bare. The endless rows of homes and buildings were monotonous.

This was an oasis, day and night, to an array of people.

Eventually Kakashi spoke, almost forlorn, “I have to admit, Tsunade is impressive. I’ve never seen the quarter like this. Even after they outlawed the oiran houses, this place was a shithole. I can hardly believe it’s the same city.” He pointed at the storehouse where a few children were playing. “That’s…” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I never imagined it could be like this.”

Iruka was transfixed. In the glint of his eye, Kakashi reflected a different world. He peered into the drudged up memory. Whether he was seeking to further uncover it or extinguish it, Iruka couldn’t tell.

Sakura was having a hard time making sense of his words. “What do you mean? The oiran houses were banned in Enten ages ago. A century ago, maybe.”

Kakashi scrunched his brow, searching himself. “Really? It’s been that long?”

It was then that Sakura and Iruka recalled what Tsunade had said about their stranger. It wasn’t as though they were caged in with a wild animal, but the walls did suddenly feel a lot closer.

Kakashi chuckled at their reemerging wariness.

Sakura broached the subject first. “A wandering god, huh?” He gave a playful shrug and Sakura laughed with him, “That’s better than you being a demon, I suppose.”

Better than a demon? Kakashi wasn’t much of a god in Iruka’s mind. He thought about the land god he had helped raise—the child reincarnated from the beloved Inari. Those were gods. Sacred and revered beings. Tsunade’s godliness was a little easier to swallow, considering the vastness of her dominion.

But this man—the stray that got smacked with a broom for stealing meat—was supposed to be of the Inari’s caliber?

It wasn’t hard for Kakashi to pick up on Iruka’s skepticism. “I’ve been called that before, but I’m nothing special. Just a brat compared to these other guys.”

Brat was right, as far as Iruka was concerned. What kind of god disguised himself as a child to tease a grown man? Better yet, why tag along a pair of strangers—as a dog—with no clear motive? If Kakashi had turned out to be a demon, Iruka would have easily believed it. But a god? Iruka couldn’t get the image of that ragged stray gnashing on a piece of dried meat out of his head.

Sakura’s curiosity was piqued. “What do you influence? The land god creates peace and prosperity, Tsunade has control over fortune and luck—”

Kakashi jumped in with confident clarity, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself thinking gods are all-powerful beings. The Inari might make the rice paddies yield well each season, but it’s not like they could stop a war with their power alone. And Tsunade’s influence as a god is more like a loaded die. She can affect your chances, but she can’t control you.”

Sakura was not convinced, “I’ve seen her do some impressive things with her own hands. Impossible things.”

Before Iruka could inquire further, there was a tapping on the door behind them.

A child opened it demurely. “Tsunade-sama is waiting for you, Sakura-san.”

The sun came up in Sakura and she ran to embrace the girl, completely abandoning their conversation.

“It’s been too long, Moegi-chan!”

The girl blushed. “It’s good to see you, Sakura-san.”

Sakura examined her face, rubbing her cheeks with her thumbs. Her motherly enthusiasm was new to Iruka. “You’ve gotten so big, I can’t believe it! How is everyone? Are the boys behaving?”

Moegi squirmed, “They’re troublesome as usual.”

Sakura seized the girl in another overpowering hug. “You’re so grown up! I can’t wait to see everyone else!”

From under Sakura’s arms, she spoke bashfully to the two men. “I-I’ve been instructed to assist you. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Sakura pat her head, “How official, Moegi-chan.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she said, sulking.

“Alright, alright.” She bid farewell to the men, “I’m sure Tsunade will make me work for a while. Try not to cause any trouble.”

Kakashi smirked, “I could say the same for you.”

Sakura stuck out her tongue. Then she remembered something, “Oh! Moegi-chan! Can you wait for me outside? It’ll be just a second.” Moegi frowned and Sakura quickly assure her. “I won’t run away. Just give us a minute.”

She took a hesitant step to the door. “Okay, fine.” The girl lingered and Sakura began pushing her as she added, “Someone is coming up soon with breakfast!”

Iruka groaned loudly despite himself, “Breakfast would be great.” Embarrassment quickly followed, but the girl was thrilled by his honesty.

Sakura slid the door shut on Moegi and dug in her clothes. She produced Shizune’s book and extended it to Iruka.

“This is selfish of me, Umino-san, but I’m afraid someone will find it on me.”

Iruka reached for it, faltering a little. “That’s alright… I’ll keep it safe for you—”

She stopped him. “No, don’t keep it. Hide it. And if anyone tries to get it from you, just tell them where it is. Don’t put yourself in danger.” She put it in his hands and held them around it. “I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

He shook his head, “No, I’m glad I can help. However I can.”

She thanked him again and was out the door. With that, Iruka was alone with Kakashi.

Iruka stared at the book. One little book at the center of so much trouble. He stuffed it in his kimono. He was hopeful a suitable hiding place would appear at some point.

A chilling breeze came in and Kakashi tucked his arms inside his sleeves, resting them in the hammock of fabric made by his obi. He went to the window to overlook the city and was swallowed up once more by that far-off gaze. This time, Iruka’s nosiness got the better of him.

“You’ve been in Enten before?”

Kakashi greeted his interest warmly, “It’s a hard place to avoid. Last time was… I’m not sure. A decade ago, maybe two? Who knows. It’s hard to remember.”

“How do you know Tsunade?”

Kakashi hummed, “Know is a strong word. I’ve run into her a few times over the years. I’m pretty positive we didn’t part well last time. I was in a gang of thieves or something like that. Whatever we were, she didn’t like us very much.”

Iruka remembered the hint of tattoos he’d seen on Kakashi’s shoulders. It was easy to picture Kakashi conducting some kind of criminal activity to earn them.

At Iruka’s guarded expression Kakashi explained, “I quit that stuff a long time ago. Too much trouble. Besides, I don’t think I could go back to it if I tried.”

Iruka was unconvinced. “Sure.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Kakashi gave him a wry smile.

His response came off as an invitation for Iruka to pry deeper. “Why a thief?”

“I remember trying farming for a while, and I worked as a merchant at some point, but I always ended up being a sword for hire.” He idled at the railing. Silver strands of hair floated around his face in the breeze. “I worked for good guys, for bad guys. It didn’t matter. It all blurs together anyway. Eventually, I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous, for one.” Kakashi pondered briefly, then shrugged. “And it gets boring.”

Iruka lifted a brow. “So boring you’d rather—” he paused, suddenly nervous to bring them to the topic, “—transform into a ratty old dog and roam the countryside?”

Kakashi huffed a laugh, then went quiet.

Iruka was worried he had somehow offended the man. He was about to apologize when Kakashi spoke.

“That’s what I am.” He saw Iruka’s disbelief and chuckled, “That’s right. I’m nothing special. Just a dog. Then at some point I realized I could change into something else.” Kakashi held out a hand. It shifted in the air like smoke. “I could look like a human.” He stowed his hand. “So that’s what I did. I would live as a human as long as I wanted. Then when I got tired of it, I’d change back.”

“You don’t remember anything else before that?”

Kakashi didn’t seem bothered by it. “I might have just forgotten. Human memories aren’t relevant to an animal, so they get hazy after a while.”

Iruka considered what he had observed from the strange man.

“So you... you didn’t remember Tsunade? Or this place?”

“Not until I saw it, no.” He spoke dismissively, trying to dispel Iruka’s noticeably growing unease, “This last stretch was pretty long. Too long. I had forgotten I could change back. I forgot I ever lived as a human at all…”

Kakashi trailed off, realizing his efforts had backfired. Iruka was only more engaged. He wouldn’t be able to escape so easily.

Iruka knew his eyes were likely twinkling, but he didn’t care to contain it.

“What happened?”

Kakashi sighed and took the time to examine Iruka. As he did, his reservations seemed to fade. Kakashi tipped toward him, taking a lazy step closer.

“Something woke me up.”

Iruka instinctively retreated, “What?”

Kakashi’s unfaltering gaze laid Iruka open, but he said nothing.

“What was it?”

The man approached him and Iruka was knocked off kilter. Not aware how close it was, Iruka flinched when he bumped into the pillar. The balcony’s drop on either side of him made his stomach flop, yet Kakashi’s undivided attention was much more disconcerting.

“What makes a would-be monk leave his peaceful temple in the mountains and come to this miserable place?”

“Um. It— It’s complicated.”

Kakashi’s hand swept over Iruka’s ribs before pressing into the railing, effectively pinning him.

“But you didn’t have to come here. You don’t owe it to anyone. You can go anywhere you want and there’s no one to stop you anymore.”

Iruka endeavored to stand his ground. “I want to know the truth.”

“About what?”

He dithered, “About… various things.”

With his free hand, Kakashi brushed open the collar of Iruka’s kimono to see the fading bite mark from the samurai.

“Even if it hurts you?” He traced the mark with his fingers “Even at your own risk?”

“I… didn’t really plan for that—”

Trapped under the transparent focus that examined his body, Iruka was filled with a nervous flutter. Kakashi slowly pushed the fabric away to expose the stain of the burr in the center of Iruka’s chest. His fingers pressed into the black spot, sending a shiver up Iruka’s back. He was completely frozen.

The man’s heavy eye lifted to level with Iruka, glinting with fascination. “What makes a person struggle so much? You’re always involving yourself in things that were never your business to begin with.”

Iruka lit up with hot offense and tore Kakashi’s hand from his clothes.

The door slid open to their mutual surprise. Moegi had returned with a boy in glasses about her age. They sported trays covered in delicious smelling food on an assortment of plates and lidded bowls.

Both children turned beet red at the men’s outwardly compromising position. Iruka pushed free and stood apart from Kakashi.

“I-I’m sorry, Obou-san.” Moegi was politely averting her eyes.

“No, no. You didn’t—” He fumbled, digging his grave, “It was nothing. Nothing was happening.”

The boy was only more suspicious.

The children sat out the food and cushions for them to sit on. When Iruka knelt for the ground, the wound on his leg stretched. With an irrepressible grunt, he remembered that the stitches had torn loose. He peeked at it and saw the bandage was soaking through.

This put Moegi in a panic. “Are you alright!? Do you need Sakura-san?”

Iruka reassured her, “No, I’m fine. But I could use a new bandage.”

Moegi bolted out the door, leaving just the boy.

Kakashi was already eating while Iruka awkwardly waited for someone to say something.

“I’m Iruka, and you are…?”

The boy answered sharply, “Udon.”

Iruka nodded, trapped in renewed silence. Without the distractions, he could hear the early birds singing close by. They reminded him of the monotony he had known at the temple. He wondered absently if there’d ever be another peaceful morning in his future.

Then there was the patter of many feet and when the door opened, Moegi was elbowing her way through a dozen children. She tried to shut the door, but eventually gave up.

The crowd marked Kakashi and Iruka’s actions with interest.

“Here you are, Obou-san.” She handed him the bandage, then asked squeamishly, “Do you need any help?”

Iruka smiled kindly, “No, thank you. I’ll take care of it later.”

A girl with curly black hair poked her head in from outside, “Obou-san, Obou-san. Did you come here with Sakura-sensei?”

Iruka answered with a slight nod.

The boys opened the door a little wider and asked, “Are you her boyfriend?”

Iruka stammered. “No, I—”

The first girl cut him off, “I saw you coming out of the Okiya.”

A gasp rippled through the group.

Iruka decided to eat while the children chattered.

“Boys aren’t allowed to go in there!”

“Why not?”

Moegi responded curtly, “Because Anko-nee says so.”

Ignoring the current debate, a very defensive boy glared at Iruka. “Are you dating Sakura-san?”

He was answered by another boy who was enthralled by the two eating their breakfast. He held the edge of the door and leaned in. “No, they’re a couple.”

“Who?” A quiet girl, the littlest one of the group, chirped from the rear. Iruka recognized her instantly. This was the same little girl Tsunade had taken in that morning. She hid in a floppy hat.

“They are!” One of the louder girls pointed between Kakashi and Iruka. “They were hugging earlier, that’s what Moegi said.”

“A couple!”

Kakashi chewed, unfazed. Iruka’s ears turned red.

Moegi was mortified, “I didn’t say that! Get out of here before you get me in trouble!”

Udon and Moegi drove the young children outside to the hall.

Iruka followed Kakashi’s example, knowing it would only encourage them if he showed a reaction to their teasing. He ducked into his bowl and drank from it.

Moegi sought to save face with her guests, “We’ll be back for your dishes. Enjoy!”

She ushered the children out and shut the door behind them.

Iruka hadn’t expected to see so many children in such a place. He would have to ask Sakura about them. Worry balled in his stomach at the idea that they had been sold off to Tsunade like the child from before. At least she had a mother to reunite with. He knew that couldn’t be the case for all of them. What kind of life could they have in a place like this? Regardless of how Kakashi thought it had improved, this was no place for children.

When Iruka ate his fill, he turned on the cushion to stretch his injured leg. He worked to undo the knot one-handed, wincing.

“Let me.” Kakashi walked over before Iruka could protest and knelt close.

Iruka pushed against the man’s chest with his good arm, “Wait, I can do it.”

Kakashi stopped him with a look. “Just sit still.”

Iruka forced himself to relax as the bandage was gently loosened and kept his hand on Kakashi’s shoulder to steady himself. Iruka wasn’t sure where to rest his sight and settled on watching the cool, pale hands ghost over his olive skin.

When the wrapping was finally removed, it was clear only a few stitches at the end had burst free. The rest of the wound was healing nicely. Kakashi dabbed it clean then lifted Iruka’s thigh to wrap the new bandage. The movement didn’t hurt him, but he reflexively gripping the man’s collar to balance himself.

“When Sakura comes back she’ll want to look at it.”

His voice made Iruka jump. He nodded obediently, his neck and ears burning.

Kakashi finished and Iruka gave him a quiet, “Thank you.”

The man responded with a devious grin. He calmly removed Iruka’s hand and source of stability from his shoulder, making him teeter. He turned Iruka’s palm slightly, exposing the inside of his wrist, and leaned his face close to it. Kakashi’s masked lips brushed the skin and for an instant Iruka was certain he intended to bite down.

Kakashi locked eyes with him and a shudder trickled along his spine.

“Happy to help.”

At that, Kakashi eased back with a smile. He helped Iruka sit properly once more, righting his clothes and relinquishing Iruka’s hand into his lap.

“But I wish you’d take better care of yourself, Obou-san.”

The hammering of Iruka’s heart was deafening in his ear.

Maybe Kakashi did intend to eat him after all.

It was then that Iruka became aware of the exited tittering behind them. Peeping through a hidden secondary entrance was the swarm of children. Their faces were all alight.

He hissed at Kakashi under his breath.

“Did you do that on purpose??”

Kakashi was as surprised as Iruka, but quickly turned it to cunning delight. “No, of course not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sparse updates, but these chapters are massive!! Haha. And I'm a long game lady, so I gotta make sure to plan accordingly. Thank you for reading! I'll see you next time.

**Author's Note:**

> See you soon! Thanks for reading!


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